


The wrath of Anubis

by seoulfulnights



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventurer Changkyun, Alternate Universe - Ancient Egypt, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Archaeologist Kihyun, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fantasy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Saving the World, Suspense, Time Travel, anubis!changkyun, horus!kihyun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-02-26 13:03:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 60,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18717622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seoulfulnights/pseuds/seoulfulnights
Summary: It started with a letter from Hyunwoo asking for his expertise on a mysterious discovery uncovered in the scorching heat of the Egyptian desert. A sealed tomb, the mummy of a pharaoh never mentioned before in history, and unleashing the curse of the ancient gods is not what Kihyun expected. Naturally, he will blame this catastrophe on his one and only rival, Im Changkyun, the famous thief.Dodging their impending death at the very last second, Kihyun and Changkyun are sent back to the times of pharaoh Chae. And for some reason, people seem to believe the two are the living incarnations of Horus and Anubis. Once enemies, they are forced now to search for their way back home together - before the true gods punish the blasphemy of pretending to be more than mere mortals.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>  

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

The dread settles in his gut as soon as his feet touch the Egyptian soils. With a hand holding his panama hat in place against the strange wind swiping the landing strip, Kihyun proceeds to follow the man who’s invited him in this torrid place. Hyunwoo is a good head taller than him, skin blessed by the Egyptian sun and gleaming in daylight, his strong built clad in a thin white linen suit making him blend in seamlessly.

Perhaps in another millennium, he would have passed as the pharaoh of these lands. Pharaohs are long departed though, as fascinated as Kihyun is in their stories and culture, and still a pharaoh is what brought him here in the first place. “So tell me more about this tomb,” Kihyun inquires, loosening his tie knot. His Oxford look isn’t quite appropriate at the moment, he should have known better to dress differently when facing the blistering heat of the Egyptian desert in summer.

“It’s remarkable, really,” Hyunwoo mumbles as he keeps walking with long strides towards the airport’s parkway where his dusty Honda boiled. Kihyun flinches at the sight of the black car, knowing that riding under its hood would turn him into a naturally mummified corpse. “I’ll take you tomorrow to the digging site. You must see it with your own eyes, the door is intact and there’s even a seal on it.” Kihyun’s eyes sparkle and his grip on his valise tightens.

An intact seal is no small feat in the egyptologist world, finding a tomb that escaped graveyard thieves for thousands of years is as rare as any mythical creature Kihyun could think of. “That’s why you need me then,” he says with a grin, “To see what sort of curse shall fall upon the ones who open it.” Hyunwoo fetches his luggage and drops it in his tiny trunk, along with the essentials things one should have when traveling through the desert. He doesn’t answer Kihyun, not directly. Hyunwoo’s never been one to feed his ego even more by praising Kihyun’s literate skills or his knowledge on ancient curses.

They tune in to a cassette, a mixtape made of some famous hits from the past years and others tracing back to Kihyun’s college days. It feels nostalgic, driving with Hyunwoo across the desert and listening to such music. “This takes me back to our youth,” he sighs with a smile on his face. That wasn’t that long ago actually, both he and Hyunwoo graduated fast, each top of their class less than a decade ago. From all perspectives, they’re still young and have a lot of life ahead of them, a lot of challenges to overcome, and hopefully a lot of successful stories to tell.

Kihyun hopes this will be one of them. Hyunwoo simply shakes his head, not pleased to be called an old man by his own guest but he moves on promptly and tells his friend about all the changes he’s missed since he last visited the Land of Pharaohs, about the new collections he provided to the History Museum and the new imbecile who overtook the director position. Kihyun scoffs, recognizing the ill-minded man who would sell the most precious artifacts on the black market given the occasion. He can only trust Hyunwoo not to let such an odious thing happen.

Hyunwoo’s house, or rather his mansion, must be the most luxurious inn a foreigner could wish for and Kihyun is beyond grateful once they reach its cool shadows. Owned by the Sons, the house has been passed down from generation to generation as an heirloom and now Hyunwoo found himself in its possession. “We’ll leave at dawn, I’ve fixed with a pilot to take us south where the tomb was discovered,” Hyunwoo announces in a hushed tone Kihyun supposes is meant to conceal the mystery in front of any spies. One could never be too safe these days when people pay hefty sums for any authentic talisman.

An entire tomb full of uncovered treasures ought to attract many thieves and low lives. “Sadly, I have to solve a few more things in town before our journey, so I won’t be able to accompany you for dinner,” Hyunwoo then apologizes sincerely. Food is the least of Kihyun’s concerns now that he’s safe from the cruel summer sun. A shower has priority above all. “I’ll tell one of the ladies of the house to prepare whatever dish you’d like and also make sure you have everything you might need for your stay.” Such a thoughtful man, were he not so devoted to his career, Kihyun wouldn’t mind being one of Son Hyunwoo’s employees if this is the sort of respect he’d be shown.

They say goodbye with a curt wrap of arms before the guest gets shown to his room by one of the maids, another man carrying his luggage behind them. He takes his time to admire the painted walls as they walk across the bridges uniting separate parts of the household, all surrounding an impressive garden with an artesian well in the middle. A few coins shine from its bottom beneath the clear water, making Kihyun wonder if it could grant him any wish in the world.

A practical man to the core, he decides to test this theory and digs a penny from the pocket of his trousers. It’s been a while since he’s last played ducks and drakes but his aim is as precise as ever and his coin ends up among the rest, wet and drowned in the pit. _Let this be the adventure of my life_ , he quietly asks in his mind. Neither the man nor the lady escorting him comment on the strange behavior, knowing better than to insult any of the Sons’ friends. Kihyun is thankful, it saves him the embarrassment of rectifying his stance, explaining how despite his deep fascination with curses and ancient magic, he does not believe in any such charms. Luck is something you make with your own hands, his father would say and it’s been a motto that brought Kihyun to where he is now, top of his branche.

The culinary field of Egypt could not even be compared to the dull tasteless dinners he’s been having the past year back at Oxford with all the other highly men and women, and he shamelessly digs into the falafel and fava beans, savoring the freshly baked pita bread. He must ask to be served this delicious food in the morning as well before their departure. Whether Hyunwoo returns that night at all, he can’t tell as no one bothers to announce him of it.

Kihyun’s mind is too preoccupied with other thoughts to look out for the main door anyway,  there are so many aspects regarding this discovery that must be considered. He takes out of his suitcase his silk pajamas along with the letter he’s received but a few weeks ago, an enigmatic Hyunwoo mentioning briefly an interesting unearthing he needs to inspect as well, a formal request to join his team that would greatly benefit from his expertise. Not much was told about the discovery in itself and Kihyun could have only assumed until earlier today when his guess has been confirmed that this is indeed a tomb.

It’s not located in the famous Valley, that much he can safely conclude from the tiny clues he’s gathered so far, otherwise, it would certainly have been opened by now. There’s also a seal on it, very likely a protection curse guarding the remains of a past king who’s been resting peacefully to today. Using curses to scare away whose tempted to steal the treasures the pharaoh carries with himself in the afterlife is a very common practice, especially during the Old Kingdom.

Although even Egyptian priests and scribes feared putting such plagues in writing, Kihyun doubts there’s any seed of truth to them. “You make your own luck,” he repeats to himself, eyes still following the cursive letters of Hyunwoo’s writing. Each curse varies, as he has learned, from misfortune following the trespasser for the rest of his days and onto being eaten alive by Sekhmet, a lioness goddess of war most famously known for her insatiable bloodlust. What kind of horrors will the unbroken seal reveal?

In spite of the disturbing thoughts, he has an easeful sleep that lets him feel refreshed in the morning. The delicious food filling his stomach soon after awaking bring him a jolly mood, replacing the foul instinct he’s experienced at his arrival. Hyunwoo is a man of his word and although what they’re embarking on might be dangerous, Kihyun has no doubt he’ll be safe next to his friend. Curses, on which he’s built his entire career, mean nothing to a rational mind like his who can see beyond the arch of history, aware of people’s simple intentions and beliefs reflected in the marks they left behind.

Afterlife is of the greatest importance to the ancient culture who spent so much of its time building monuments for it, raising pyramids and digging tombs like the one he’s going to enter in later today. The need to protect their resting places by all and any means is something Kihyun can understand on some level, he too would like for his remains not to be profaned like so many pharaohs have suffered. Still, empathizing with a mummy won’t lead him anywhere in real life and it definitely won’t stop him from going through with whatever Hyunwoo has planned.

He joins his friend in the small plane the other has rented for the occasion, greeting the pilot with a tip of his hat and settling in for an exciting flight. “Where are we headed?” he asks at last, curiosity getting the better of him. Hyunwoo shows one of his charismatic grins that would get Kihyun to follow him in any death trap, “To Thebes, of course.”

 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

The city of Thebes had been one of the most sacred places for the old Egyptians, and Kihyun visited it in the past a number of times during his studies and even more so after. Fostering temples like the ones at Karnak or Luxor, it was easily one of the liveliest places in the dead desert, a place whose walls spoke volumes of history. Kihyun could only imagine its former beauty when the stone was still white and people walked by the giant columns left today, raising up to the sky to greet the god Amun, the primordial deity of all creation and of the solar disk.

Most tourists interested in seeing the remains of such a glorious civilization often limit themselves to the pyramids at Giza or a few of the tombs in the Valley of the Kings, for choice the one deemed as this century’s discovery. Kihyun is not the biggest fan of King Tutankhamun or of his digger, Howard Carter. He’s not the biggest fan in general when it comes to mummies and their resting place.

Temples though, in Kihyun’s humble opinion, are far more entertaining for the mind. Imposing and elegant, their presence and importance cannot be ignored in any journey through these lands. Yet it’s not for the magnificent sphinx statues he’s been called to assist in deciphering, and mythology is still only a minor field he excels in. His main area of study has always been hieroglyphs, stories written on yellow papyruses, and eventually curses meant to keep offenders off sacred grounds.

“Another crypt in the Valley?” he asks Hyunwoo once they’re close to the destination, the enormous mortuary temple of Hatshepsut spreading beneath them. Kihyun earns to see the paintings on its walls again, but he tries to stay focused on their mission. If only he knew what that was. The man in question shakes his head and refuses to comment further, as he’s been doing with every question Kihyun threw at him. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the vast expanse of sand while they cross the rocky hills.

Kihyun frowns. The Valley of the Kings as well as the Valley of the Queens are both located close to Thebes, as a natural consequence of the city being proclaimed capital after the end of the Old Kingdom. Much more powerful than Memphis or any other ancient city, Thebes has thrived over centuries on the Nile and most of its rulers have built their eternal houses in its proximity, from great monuments like the Ramesseum, guarded by huge statues of the Pharaoh Ramses the Great, to the tombs of various nobles buried in the Theban Necropolis.

Always on the west coast, Kihyun remembers, as the sun sets in the west and that’s where the afterlife resides, that’s where Ra sails with his boat to fight the snake of chaos Apophis. They are here to uncover a tomb, a sealed one at that, and all its mysteries. But if it’s not located in the Valley and the Necropolis is long since thoroughly explored, where is Hyunwoo taking him?

Their plane lands after some turbulence in the hot desert, the sand burning Kihyun’s soles through his thick boots. Hyunwoo seems unbothered by the heat, most likely used with it after years of habiting in such a cruel and dry climate. “You should have dressed better,” the older man gives a side look to his friend while leading him to the camp where his men have discovered the mysterious door.

“I’ve dressed proper, thank you very much,” the other scoffs insulted by the teasing tone and reaches for the first water bottle he carried in his backpack. He should conserve it for when he is in dire need of hydration, but speaking in this temperature gets his throat dry quickly. “Not proper for the desert. Or creeping into catacombs,” Hyunwoo corrects amused and this time, Kihyun’s left with no comeback. With his ironed shirt tucked into cropped trousers, the only fitting attire he chose seems to be the sand boots in his feet and trademark hat on his head, whereas Hyunwoo looks entirely the image of a man of the desert.

Kihyun tries to gain his composure back quickly though and inquires once again about their adventure, “Will you tell me for the love of Horus what is going on?” The brunet raises an eyebrow, further intrigued by his friend’s strange figures of speech but once they’re alone for good, he doesn’t hold back anymore. “A few months ago, we tried to build another village in this area. It’s not far from the main tourist attractions, and although it would be far from the luxus in Cairo, there are plenty of people who would enjoy a rustic experience.” Kihyun nods understanding the flawless logic so far and fixes his hat after a rare breeze of wind disturbs it. He holds back from rolling his sleeves, knowing better than to get a sunburn.

“Once works for a sewage system began, we’ve stumbled across a mummy,” Hyunwoo continues and pauses before they could reach the tents of the workers, still digging the tomb out as to his orders. Nothing impressive yet, stumbling across mummies in the desert is no rarity, especially to such close proximity to Thebes. Kihyun himself found a child once, not long after getting the archaeologist title placed next to his name.

“It wouldn’t be that surprising, of course, except we dug out twelve more afterwards. The strange thing is that all belong to different eras. None were properly mummified either, it has been the work of the desert alone, and people started talking. They assume these were thieves, left dead before even opening the pharaoh’s tomb.”

“The curse of the pharaoh?” Kihyun asks with slight distrust. He could never take seriously anyone who actually believed in such stories, science could easily explain all plagues turned towards trespassers. Being sealed for thousands of years, not to mention the actual corpses deposited inside, tombs are one of the hottest burning points for bacteria and viruses to spread, becoming more dangerous each generation that passes.

Either way, people remain suspicious still and he’s not in a place to judge them. “Precisely. Months later, we reach this,” Hyunwoo says finally leading Kihyun towards the door.

And what a beautiful door. Kihyun stares for a moment at the almost untouched hieroglyphs, at the unknown royal seal, at Isis’s wings spread on both sides in their golden glory as the major goddess protected the dead and helped them pass in the afterlife. And perhaps the most shocking of all, something unseen since Tutankhamon, rope holding the doors together, the fiber turned to a fragile stone.

A truly unopened tomb and in such great conditions, Kihyun’s heart leaps only for being able to witness it. The workers managed to dig both sides, revealing more of the story behind this unnamed ruler and Kihyun immediately recognizes Horus, the pharaonic god, a tutelary deity meant to rule over all of Egypt. And right across from him, Anubis, god of embalming, the one leading souls in the Duat, the realm of the dead.

He’s taken aback for a second, not expecting the jackal god to be placed so upfront to a tomb. Although definitely one of the most prominent gods and heavily worshipped in ancient times, Anubis had no stable temple like most others, instead being gifted a shrine inside each tomb. His appearance already raises so many questions, Kihyun can see why Hyunwoo is so secretive about this amazing breakthrough.

Without any incentive, Kihyun begins to trace the signs, shapes of falcons and ankhs and snakes making up words and then building up an entire story. “Here lies pharaoh Chae, king of Upper and Lower Egypt,” he reads aloud for anyone with ears to hear, “protector of the land, and embodiment of Horus, may his rest be as lush as his reign in the thirteenth dynasty.” He pauses for a second, utterly confused.

The thirteenth dynasty pledged no great pharaoh, definitely not one whose tomb would be so grandiose. In fact, there’s little known about it, few of them buried at Abydos, an important religious place in the Middle Kingdom, not far from Thebes indeed, and some resting in pyramids at Saqqara − the necropolis of Memphis, capital of the Old Kingdom. Egyptologists even disagree where to place this dynasty when talking about the chronology of rulers. “That much we managed to read as well, but this part, right between the wings, it made no sense,” Hyunwoo sighs, pointing to the space above the incredible rope.

Still baffled by discovering this supposed pharaoh Chae of the thirteenth century, Kihyun turns his attention towards the center, where he expects a vicious curse. Unlike popular belief and media play, not all tombs promised plagues and famine and blood being shed. Kihyun has read plenty of threats about hippopotamuses eating him alive once he baths in the Nille, jackals chasing to tear his limbs apart in the dessert, or falcons poking his eyes out. All outdated forms of menace that would have scared a simpler man three thousand years ago but do nothing to increase Kihyun’s own heart rate.

“Those who dare to cross King Chae, beware,” he reads out slowly, his tongue rusty, “As the worst of punishments shall fall upon the one disturbing his eternal slumber and King Chae shall rise from the Duat and do as he sees fit with the disturber.” Hyunwoo and Kihyun share a troubled look. Nowhere in their studies have they come across anything alike, nowhere have they seen any egyptian text speak about a dead rising so openly. _The book of the dead_ , Kihyun remembers all of a sudden the collection of magical spells intended to walk the dead through the Duat. A very valuable source of information for anyone as involved as Kihyun, yet the old papyruses date only from the New Kingdom, centuries after the thirteenth dynasty ended.

“I’ll try to translate the wall precisely,” Kihyun says uncertain of its veracity, a suspicious frown settled on his sweaty brow. He straightens up his back and raises his hand with a kerchief to wipe away the cold perspiration, the blinding sun too much for his sensitive irises. “And tomorrow we could open it,” the archaeologist’s eyes fall upon the rope, hand itching to rip it off. However, he holds back. He’s no savage, there is a proper procedure for each discovery of these sorts and they must follow each step thoroughly.

Not to mention, there’s text covering every inch of the stone door, a good size taller and far wider than himself. “Maybe,” he adds in a whisper, wary he’s spoken too fast on this challenge. Hyunwoo approves of the plan without a second thought and urges the men to continue with their tools. Pulling out a faldstool, Kihyun takes a seat right fore the gate and opens a small notebook with blank pages, kept inside his jacket for good measure.

With the constant sound of digging in his ears and the infernal heat rising from the ground, Kihyun works on placing every sound into a letter into a word, slowly composing brick by brick the bigger rhapsody that went against everything he knew for sure. “It contradicts itself,” Kihyun mumbles and furiously scratches his temple with the tip of his pencil.

King Chae, the greatest pharaoh of the thirteenth dynasty, had lived a hundred years − almost the entirety of said dynasty when at least a dozen other pharaohs should have taken the scepter, a long period of peace and prosperity for its people. Ruling from Thebes, in a time where Memphis was still considered the throne of the empire, he was adored by his subjects who kissed his steps. It is said the sun turned black the day Anubis came after his soul and Ra brought King Chae onto his mighty boat to roam the eternal darkness and reach the golden fields of the afterlife.

“Hyunwoo,” Kihyun calls out, worried that his knowledge fails him for once, “tell me everything you know about the thirteenth dynasty,” he asks, almost pleading so unlike his prideful self.

The request obviously surprises Hyunwoo, though perhaps it shouldn’t, and after a moment of thought he recites, “It might have been one of the weakest in Egypt’s history. After the fall of the twelfth, the most stable one from the Old Kingdom, builders of pyramids all across the desert, the thirteenth failed to maintain it’s rulership. And then the fourteenth dynasty appeared in the Delta and tried to take over, but they had to uphold the Hyksos invasions who supposedly came from Asia. It was a time of chaos and disorder and the reigns of pharaohs were short-lived according to all the findings from that era.”

Kihyun’s eyes remain closed as he listens to his friend speak, his hat fallen over to cover his face and rolling into his lap by the end of Hyunwoo’s speech. Unfortunately, or rather thankfully, his mind is as remarkable as ever and he could remember exactly all of the details his friend so kindly shared. They couldn’t both be wrong, the history they know _couldn’t_ be wrong so then, “This wall is a liar.”

“I’ve heard that walls have ears, do they have mouths to lie too?” Kihyun rolls his eyes at the joke attempt before he slides his dear hat back over his dark curls. “You tell me, look at these sigils. They’re of Ramses the Second and Seti the First, two of the greatest leaders Egypt has ever had,” he points to two specific inscriptions Hyunwoo has missed before. “Two of the greatest pharaohs belonging to the Nineteenth dynasty, over four hundred years after all of the Thirteenth has perished.”

His frustration culminates, the more he spoke about it the angrier he got at the stones for laughing in his face. He throws his leather notebook on the sand and steps on it just to be sure the pages feel his inner turmoil. “Hyunwoo, I think this is some joke. At most, this is the tomb of some nobel, and vandals from Seti’s time vandalized it. The design doesn’t look remotely close to the Middle Kingdom anyway, not to mention they’ve put a guard dog? That must be some sort of blasphemy to all holy cats,” Kihyun mumbles. Hyunwoo appears to contemplate his rage for a moment but ultimately shrugs.

“You can’t deny it’s still a great discovery. It _is_ a sealed tomb. Even if the outside has been corrupted, the inside should tell us the real story,” he says with conviction. The younger man sighs, a disappointed shake of his head the only reaction he manages before stretching out his arms up to the sky like the image of Horus mirrored in golden paint and falcon feathers.

The sun is not far from setting, after a long dragged working day in the open field and Kihyun’s ready to sneak into his sleeping bag and hope he doesn't get sand in any unwanted places. Hyunwoo shares his tiredness, his arms sore after using a shovel himself alongside the hired workers. The heated sands beneath his feet do nothing to abjure the shade of the desert in the night and Kihyun is reminded again why he fancies stocked libraries with coffee at discretion instead of a smoking fire in the middle of nowhere, most likely surrounded by corpses lying just a few feet under. He shudders at the idea, mummies have definitely not been his favorite throughout the years.

Despite the huge disappointment of this life adventure turning out to be nothing more than a scam, Kihyun’s curiosity lingers on. Tomorrow the truth shall be revealed and they'll determine for sure who inhabits the cript. There are too many things that don't add up and he wishes he had the hindsight to bring some anthology on curses and spells from the Book of the Dead to compare his notes with.

He hesitates to ask Hyunwoo whether he ever came across a pharaoh Chae, not only in his prolonged studies but also rumors people are all too willing to spread about imaginary history figures. In the end, he decides against it and curls up into a ball in his sleeping bag to fight the cold, Hyunwoo doing the same a few feet away from him. As he tries to fall asleep, Kihyun can't shake off the feeling of scorpions crawling into their tent and poisoning him with their pointy tails, scarabs coming to eat the flesh off his bones, and the damn gold desert wolf won't shut his howling the entire night. The dread is there again.

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

Footsteps echo in his wake, barely perceptible compared to the loud clicking of his boots. The corridors are so tight, made for a spirit to search its way out, and they only seem to tighten further the more he threaded in the sacred space of the pharaoh. Kihyun doesn’t stop, no, he can’t stop even with the sound of scorpio claws scraping across the rusty floor increasing in its rattle. There’s something far more dangerous chasing him and Kihyun’s feet fail to fully comprehend that as they slow down without his consent.

Not that he’s got anywhere else to run when he comes face to face with the fake door that should have disguised the true King’s chamber from intruders like himself. His breath hitches as he finds the door had been moven, exposing the funerary hieroglyphs and the massive stone sarcophagus right in its middle. Empty. A growl from behind him startles the archaeologist yet when he turns to face his yager, there’s nothing but darkness.

Kihyun wakes up with a start, his leg hitting the ground as though he’s landing in the realm of the living after a long journey. Grabbing at his quivering heart, for a second the man wonders whether his Ka truly left his body in that dream, searching something beyond this tangible reality. An interesting concept, like my others the great Egyptians have come up with. For them, the soul was no singularity.

No, the soul transfigured into many forms. Nine, to be exact, and Ka was just one of them − the one which leaves the body after death and receives the offerings servants leave in the tomb for their lord. But for his Ka to travel so far off, that would require him to truly be dead and as much as Kihyun could tell, he’s thankfully alive and breathing. He often had such vivid dreams, in particular when sleeping on Egyptian soils but a rational man like himself shouldn’t search for meanings in REM-induced images, he knows better than Freud. Hyunwoo is still sleeping soundly, in the very same position with his back turned towards his friend, a calming yet worrying sight.

And then he hears it. A departed howl, reaching him from the rocky mountains of the valley. And a rustle, the rolling of a massive stone amidst the desert wind. The image of the empty sarcophagus pops in his mind like a trigger and he can't allow that. Without warning, Kihyun jumps to his feet and shakes Hyunwoo out of his slumber before dragging him along. His torch is weak but strong enough to illuminate their path not that far from the sealed stone door.

“Somebody broke in,” Hyunwoo hisses angered, and Kihyun’s blood freezes in his veins. The tomb has been left unprofaned for millennia until they've stumbled upon it and, without a doubt, attracted the gold thirst of ruthless thieves. No, he won't allow some rascal to perturb the remains of this mummy, pharaoh or not. In a completely out of character spur of courage, he follows on the trespassers’ steps deep into the tomb. Hyunwoo hesitates a moment, uncertain whether they have anyone trustworthy with them to accompany on this retribution road but truthfully, the ones lurking inside could only be his men. This betrayal doesn't sit well with him and he settles to have a word with whoever broke his trust.

The tomb has been opened with care at least, Kihyun notices slightly relieved by the fact that the thieves do possess some manners. The door hasn’t been broken thankfully and all those hieroglyphs he struggled with earlier are left unmarked by any rough mishandling; and it has been left open wide enough for him and Hyunwoo to sneak in with no problems. They have to bend down at the entry, Hyunwoo moreso than him, since the tunnel isn’t built in such a manner to accommodate walking.

Kihyun has a bigger problem trying not to linger too much and observe all the art painted on the walls though, all the stories he _needs_ to explore as soon as the pest they’re dealing with is gone. Hyunwoo is less distracted, walking ahead of him with the torch and fist clenched tightly, obviously troubled by this turn of events. One of the things Kihyun liked the most about his friend is his shared punctuality, perhaps typical of their upbringing, and his respect for fixed schedules. Being forced to do things impromptu because of others corrupting their initial plan leaves a sour taste in their mouth.

“What if they have guns?” Kihyun suddenly hisses, hoping the echo of the ancient grave will not carry his words to the intruders. Hyunwoo stubbornly refuses to give him any answer, raising his hand up and asking for silence. Kihyun listens, waiting to hear another rustle, a pair of feet paddling on the cold stone but there are no traces of people entering these halls. Looking around, he comes face to face with the falcon god Horus, his image bold and colorful, his divine eye made out of gold paint. The pharaoh’s depicted right in front of the god, as his direct representant in front of the common folk, a holy embodiment of the sun himself.

Anubis’ presence is no surprise at all this time, as the jackal god reigns in any tomb and appears the most out of all the deities, second only to Osiris, the god of the afterlife and pharaoh in the Duat. The first mummy to have ever been created and the first and only resurrection in Egyptian mythology. Anubis, as the loyal guardian he is, seems to perform the _opening of the mouth_ ceremony, a ritual supposed to grant the dead the ability to speak and breathe in the next realm.

There’s an elaborate story carved around the three figures on the wall, the sigil of the mysterious pharaoh Chae slapping Kihyun in the face as soon as his eyes fall on it. He grabs Hyunwoo’s sleeve for support more than to get his friend’s attention on the strange writings. “Look,” he whispers, torch pointed above Horus’ Pschent, the white and red double crown worn by the kings who ruled over both Upper and Lower Egypt.

The gold of his eye shines inhumanly bright in the dim light. “Pharaoh Chae did exist, it’s the same story from outside but more elaborate,” Kihyun says stunned. Could this really still be considered a hoax? Maybe previous thieves already devastated the tomb sometime around the nineteenth dynasty and the priests at the time have been so kind as to reapply a protective seal on whatever remained for them now to discover. Thieves in that period, like their current thieves located somewhere along this tunnel, always look only after one thing: the treasury chamber full of the richest possessions of the past king.

“They have no other escape route, we’ll bump into them sooner or later, ” Hyunwoo points out, head snapping from the hieroglyphs towards the end of the corridor meant to carry the soul of King Chae out to the heavens. Kihyun wants to correct the other, as they both know that pharaohs were often buried with their still living servants, yet no man was willing to die for their leader in such a torturing manner.

Therefore, whenever such tombs were built, secret passages were added and confided to the priests who sanctified the pharaoh’s eternal journey and thus anyone trapped inside could escape. Later on, of course, the access to those routes was completely cut off to prevent robberies, though then again, the people employed to follow the pharaoh in eternity were exactly the ones more likely to return and grab a golden reward they thought worthy for their dedication. Such a mindless circle of vices, Kihyun shrugs it aside and turns to read more about this mysterious character of pharaoh Chae.

He succeeds to make out enough about his life as they reach the antechamber preceding the burial chamber where the sarcophagus is resting. Usually, there is a number of annexes, depending on how prosper and long the pharaoh’s kingship has been, but despite his praised regency across all of Egypt and skies, King Chae appears to have none at all. Perhaps they’re concealed by false doors but those too haven’t been quite popular after the seventh dynasty.

He’ll later suggest to Hyunwoo to nickname this pharaoh the enigmatic and confusing one, whose life makes no sense at all, when they decide to publish papers on their breakthrough discovery. Kihyun is in the middle of reading about the seven quests the pharaoh has been charged with, seven challenges thrown his way by the gods, and an incredibly literal battle with the god of chaos and the desert, Seth; when the loud cracking of another ancient door being pushed aside reaches his ears. Hyunwoo is the one who bolts this time, feet running with a speed Kihyun can’t really match, in the search of the hare-brained people who have probably finally found the pharaoh.

They should have waited at the entrance, Kihyun realizes at last, they should have called for help and not venture on their own to face possibly armed strangers, evidently trained in robbing ancient tombs. “Stop right there!” Hyunwoo shouts quite heroically as they pass the stone sarcophagus and thread into the treasury where three men filled their pockets with the riches of the mummy. Kihyun’s torch lights up golden bracelets and necklaces decorated with jade and lapis lazuli, malachites and jaspers and obsidian adorning the back of a throne, dozens of jars filled with more jewelry, and in the end, they rest upon a gun.

“We don’t want to cause you any harm,” surprisingly, it’s the one with the strongest built out of the three shadows that speaks, his voice soft and misleading were he not caught with a handful of rings about to be dropped in a bag. “Then put that weapon down,” Hyunwoo answers in a stern tone that he rarely used even with his subalterns. When the person in the center whose face is still secluded by shadows refuses to do so, Hyunwoo gives Kihyun his biggest shock since he landed on Egyptian grounds yesterday. He pulls out a gun of his own.

The sound of another pistol charging vibrates against the stone walls, kicking things up a notch as the third man steps closer, a grin as dark as his hair on his lips. This looks bad, Kihyun curses innerly, fingers tightly holding onto his torch. They were first outnumbered but even so, two of them had guns whereas only Hyunwoo had one on their side. The thieves could easily kill them and then run away with the ancient treasure but his friend doesn’t look concerned about that aspect as he keeps pointing his own Beretta handgun at the leader of the petty gang.

“Move aside,” the command is strict, cold, calculated − and so familiar Kihyun takes a step back wide-eyed. Two words are enough but when the one in the center of the three approaches them, his gun still pointed in Kihyun’s direction, the archaeologist almost drops his trusty torch. There, right before him, stood the man who tried to ruin his career so many times in the past. It’s almost fitting to run across him in such catacombs that promise Kihyun success beyond his wildest dreams. “Im Changkyun,” he spits out the name like a curse.

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

How his little gang of bandits came to be is no great story, even more so when Hoseok refuses to be called a bandit because he’s just a simple  _artist_ aiming for the greatest shot in history. Minhyuk, on the other hand, claims to be the mastermind behind all their escapades, coming up with the wildest suggestions which somehow turn out to be successful in their quests.

There’s only one thing that’s certain though — their constant bickering in the background giving Changkyun a headache. The youngest snorts and adjusts his hat better so the visor casts a pleasant shadow over his face. Luckily, the sun is already setting and by the time they will reach their destination, there will be complete darkness to blend in. Perfect for an ambush.

“I still think this is a scam. I know I’m completely clueless with all your treasure stuff, but it sounds too good to be true,” Hoseok says, a weary look directed at the camel he and Minhyuk are forced to share. Camels are strange animals yet crucial when one’s stuck in the desert and along the years, Changkyun came to grow a soft spot for them.

That, of course, until they try to spit on or bite him with as little respect as one generally has for a thief like him.

If he had the chance, he wouldn’t hesitate to pick a horse for riding instead, a well-groomed and trained stud to trot off through the Saharan sand like a prince roaming his land. If he had the chance, he’d also replace the nuisance known as Lee Minhyuk who doesn’t miss the opportunity to brag about his spider web connections. 

“Listen, there’s a reason why I am the silver scorpion,” he says with the trademark smug grin plastered on his face, the type that makes even someone as soft-spoken as Hoseok want to push Minhyuk off the camel’s back. The poor animal would probably be grateful to get rid of the extra weight dragging him down. “My sources never lie, this treasure has been dug up in utmost secrecy by one of those rich patrons who sponsor the museum in Cairo, one of the Sons.”

Changkyun keeps quiet. He’s known Son Hyunwoo longer than he's known his two companions but he’s found the man rather intimidating with his brooding silence and rich allure. He’s also always disliked the sort of company the other keeps around, the ruler whipped scholars who would rather get trapped in a sandstorm than stray away from their strict protocol tucked into the pocket of their ironed shirt. Changkyun finds a better place for that protocol would be to stick it up their arses but for most such scholars, there’s little space there considering the stick already shoved. 

“They say it’s a sealed tomb. They say it’s full of gold and the riches of the ancient world, a true pharaoh crypt and a mummy to top it all,” Minhyuk continues, going in on details about the things these ancient kings brought with them in the afterlife, all the ridiculous requests and demands they had from their subjects so their rest would be peaceful and prosper. For that, they simply needed everything they held dear in their living days. From their beloved cats who would then be killed, mummified and buried with their owners, to servants and soldiers serving as human sacrifices, food and weapons for a leader and a warrior, and, naturally, as much gold as the tomb could fit. 

The Egyptian idea was soundproof, even Changkyun has to agree with the reasoning behind it, though he finds everything else at least a bit bizarre. The trip of the deceased to the Duat, for example, which came under the guidance of the psychopomp god Anubis. The canine deity would lead the passed soul to the  _Hall of the Two Truths_ where the supreme judge Osiris awaited with a golden scale.

And since the dead had nothing on himself but his heart, the only organ embalmers left inside a mummy, they would place it on the scale to be weighed against the feather of truth given by the goddess Ma’at, the personification of balance and harmony. A peculiar judgment of sins, one could say, wishing for your heart to be lighter than a feather, but without it, the spirit could not be allowed into  _Aaru_ , the Fields of Reeds. Nothing more than the Nile Delta, really, but it’s the closest thing to paradise Egyptians ever found in their droughty lands.

 

And if they failed, if they shamefully presented the heart of a sinner, then the nasty  _Ammit_ , a goddess who resembled a crocodile, a lioness and a hippopotamus all at once, was more than happy to swallow their entire existence and leave them to wander the Duat restlessly for eternity. Ghosts were not to be played with or treated lightly, and Egyptians were always irky about disturbing the dead.

Not that either Minhyuk or Changkyun are particularly interested in such fun facts. What is actually appealing to them about such a discovery is the price of an authentic mummy on the black market. A whole collection, the sarcophagus and all the king’s belongings included, could earn them a few million dollars if negotiated well. “Imagine all the exclusive photographs,” Hoseok’s eyes sparkle at the thought and his companion's smile at his naivety. 

Out of all three, only Hoseok would be able to escape the mythical Ammit and her feisty mouth, his heart certainly lighter than the feather of truth. Sometimes Changkyun expects the older to turn them in, to get off his camel and claim he’s had his share of trickery and fraud for a lifetime, and then just turn his back on him and Minhyuk and let them perish amidst the smothering dunes.

Hoseok, though, is still better than that, better than Changkyun ever dreams of being, and whether he’s doing it for the love of art or for the attachment he feels towards the younger two, Hoseok continues to be the glue that unites them through thick and thin. Minhyuk, on the other hand, is all sly smirks and hidden aces up his short sleeves.

“They say,” the self-proclaimed silver scorpion continues, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “They say Yoo Kihyun came all the way here to help Son in documenting this unearthing.”

Were his camel less stubborn and not continue her way at the same disinterested pace, he might have fallen in the burning sand and get stepped on. The name shoots an arrow that makes him lose all semblance of balance as though Yoo Kihyun himself aimed it from afar, from the times when they roamed the same corridors and had the same lectures and they’d share coffee under the comforting shade of an old oak.

Yoo Kihyun is merciless by all means, however, and the tip of his name is dipped into poisonous memories Changkyun does not care to remember. The news of such a snake lurking around makes him go rigid, his grip tight on the reigns swaying the spitting animal. This significantly changes his plans of action — but doesn’t defeat them automatically. Confident in his own cunningness, Changkyun closes his eyes and lets himself meld into the landscape, the cries of a falcon flying above them disturbing his thoughts but slightly. 

With a serious tone not much different than usual, the leader of the small gang instructs Hoseok and Minhyuk carefully on how to proceed once they make it into the tomb. They’ve never opened a sealed one before but after centuries of lying untouched it should be weakened enough for the three of them to handle without much hustle.

Now, depending on the number of guards Son Hyunwoo hired to protect his treasure, they might have just enough time to grab the most valuable artifacts and go, with or without the mummy. Hoseok would be thrilled to let the corpse there, no doubt, the photographer always so squeamish about creepy things and only interested in the mural art decorating the tomb.

But Minhyuk and his greedy hands would throw quite a fuss about the lost opportunity if they left the pharaoh’s decomposed body in the golden sarcophagus. Changkyun is certain they cannot smuggle the coffin out too though, not if there’s just three of them and no machines at disposal.

Scheming, always scheming, Changkyun leads through the dunes, oblivious to the falcon watching over him.  

 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

 

What a complete fool.

Changkyun cannot believe just how foolish Son Hyunwoo could behave when he finds the tomb unguarded, the few people who have probably finished digging it up earlier in the day asleep in tents away from the settlement. For a flawless man like the Son heir, letting himself so openly vulnerable in front of any foreign threats could only be a consequence of his trust in people’s goodwill and a naive belief that others have the same morals as him.

That others won’t be tempted by personal gain perspectives and do the right thing instead, what any egyptologist is supposed to do − present all artifacts to the  _International Association of Egyptologist_ which will later dispatch it to some museum within or outside of Egypt. 

Changkyun desired such a position in the past mostly to fall in his father’s footsteps, but thankfully he never made it far. After years of cursing Yoo Kihyun for taking away his biggest dream, perhaps it is time to be grateful towards the arrogant scholar for preventing him from committing a great mistake. And what better way to show his gratitude than to steal Kihyun’s treasure right under his nose. He rests his hand lightly over the holster hanging by his belt and hopes there won’t be any need to reach for it, injuring others is never part of his plans yet he won’t hesitate to use such means to achieve his goal.

The moon casts mellow light over their faces, obscuring their features as they blend in with their taupe apparel among the rocks. Changkyun looks up one more time at the pale god Khonsu, the lunar deity who loves to gamble with time, the one travelers turn to when reaching a dead-end in the wheat field maze they face in the underworld trials. 

Hopefully, they won’t go through the 12 circles of Egyptian hell tonight but Changkyun still proposes a gamble to the moon, a risky game he doesn’t believe in and yet knows he shouldn’t play. Just give him enough time to reach the treasure. One nod from the leader and the other two leap into action, prepared to break into the sealed tomb. Minhyuk grins victoriously and sets to open their way in, while Changkyun reassesses their position and tries to decrypt part of the hieroglyphs spread all over the dusty stone.

Most are confusing, to say the least, and he could only trace them in the dark with no torch or light source available, making his reading unreliable. There are more productive ways to spend his time at the moment than to understand ancient jokes, so Changkyun takes a deep dusty breath and empties his head to create a clear picture of their mission. 

Although there are no guards standing directly by the door, too much noise would definitely attract anyone’s attention. The desert is a quiet mistress at night. Or at least that’s what he read somewhere − probably one of the poems Hoseok enjoys so much. He’s confident in Minhyuk’s skills though, the older man unmatched in his agility and dexterity to open locked doors. It is, after all, how they met years ago, the memory slightly distracting but nonetheless endearing.

Funny enough how things turn around, from death threats and pointing knives at each other to being partners in crime and loyal to the bone. A door made out of solid rock is not much different from what Minhyuk knows to maneuver, except all three of them have to push it aside mindfully once he finds its weak spots, the perfect points to apply pressure on and make the rock budge out of its place. 

Bringing more damage to the door than millennia already did is not their intention nor do they have the necessary force to actually pick it up and put it aside, so the three thieves resort to thrusting until they got enough space to go down the stairs leading inside the tomb. There's no time for Hoseok to take photos of the entry, no matter how much he pouts at his leader, so he resigns to letting the camera hang idly around his neck until they are deep enough within the tomb and the echoing sound of the triggered flash or the blinding light is far from any other people.

The ceiling still carries the rich blue pigment of lapis lazuli stones, white marks creating the impression of a starry sky reflected in the underground. Gods and humans and images from the pharaoh’s life guide them deeper within, the walls almost untouched by cracks or age. 

It is eerie, truly, and Hoseok sticks close to his friends as all those eyes seem to be following him, especially the one he knows to belong to Horus. The all-seeing eye, the almighty falcon. The two younger raiders don’t share his completely justified fear, however, as they advance further into darkness as if they’re lead by an undeniable force towards certain doom. He might be less literate than Changkyun on the topic, and definitely not as informed as Minhyuk on the priceless values of these artifacts, but he is not a moron.

As his feet touch each ancient step, he can almost see the souls of sacrificed servants carrying their king to his eternal resting place. He can almost feel their terror at the thought of being trapped in these claustrophobic catacombs. He can just imagine the oppression those people had to face under a tyrant who believed himself to be a god. Their art might be beautiful and stories captivating, but Hoseok sees the ancient realm for what it is. A land of questionable morals and unjust hierarchies. Not much different than today’s society, but just as unlikeable for an idealist like him. 

Changkyun keeps looking in utter fascination at the painted walls, symbols related to a curse flying over his head as he tries to make some sense of them. More than anything, the dark figure of the underworld guardian seems to be talking to him, urging to go deeper and explore every last bit of this grave. Still, nothing unusual. All the previous locations he robbed before had such protective spells splayed across walls, be it a hidden temple or a forgotten cave. Part of him feared one day they might follow through with their mythical threats.

A more rational side of the man who studied  at Oxford under great archeologists’ tutelage for a while reminds him curses have always been just media play, hoaxes to scare the general public and cause hysteria. Still, the bright paints that make Hoseok exclaim in awe and admiration don't leave him cold and indifferent. In fact, they manage to steal his entire attention until they reach the end of the corridor and he bumps into Minhyuk's bony back.

"No signs of traps so far," the thief remarks skeptic. Although they've never entered a sealed tomb together so far, the trio always encountered threats that others before them somehow missed. This is definitely unusual. 

"Maybe it was opened and resealed later," Changkyun shrugs. "The hieroglyphs date it back to the 13th dynasty, so we're not gonna meet any great king." At least not according to his father's books, and Changkyun doesn't trust any other source on Ancient Egypt related issues.

He more or less has them memorized by now so there's no doubt in his statement, no distrust that he's speaking the absolute truth as he pushes Minhyuk out of his way and searches for the fake door concealing the pharaoh's burial chamber. The flames of his torchlight up a painting of Anubis, ears pointy and eyes red like blood scaring Hoseok who whimpers from behind. Changkyun only scoffs, his eyes resting every now and then on burial stories he's seen before, funerary rituals depicted otherwise in each Egyptian tomb. The 13th dynasty is virtually unknown, like any of the others between the Middle and New Kingdom.

Most in the niche don't even care about anything below Ramses and his hundred children with his hundred wives anyway, the occasional feminist bringing up Hatshepsut, the queen who ruled like a king or correcting the myth surrounding Cleopatra's beauty. 

All of them claim to be academically superior and virtuous yet none look further than fame and fortune. In the end, they're all thieves just like him. 

"I think I found it," Hoseok calls out, pointing behind the offerings table at a narrow hallway that somehow escaped Changkyun's vision. The antechamber is suffocating and heavy, despite the obvious lack of ornaments. Even the offerings table lies bare, which only strengthens more Changkyun’s belief in this tomb being opened and resealed. "You're getting better at this," Minhyuk praises Hoseok with a grin, trailing on Changkyun's tracks through the narrow passage.

They have to squish in a bit and walk pressed to the walls, much to Hoseok’s distress when it comes to spiders and dusty webs. "It could have been worse," Minhyuk jokingly reminds them when they finally reach the annex, "it could have been scorpions or flesh-eating scarabs." Before Hoseok can tell the other exactly what he thinks of this sort of dark humor, they're both shushed by a glaring Changkyun, the leader more than a bit pissy at all the mindless and careless rumble.

Even though they managed to infiltrate the tomb, they have no guarantee that they won't be discovered or stopped from deserting these walls with all its treasures. 

There’s no need for a scolding since they all fall mute amazed by the marvel the fire of Changkyun’s torch reveals. What they discover is not a sarcophagus, surely not the one they expected and were looking for, but it is by far the most grandiose finding their eyes have ever laid upon. Right in the middle of a small platform raised by a few steps stood a golden ark, inscription after inscription engraved in its rich metal and an obsidian statue of Anubis resting on top of it, watching over the burial site vigilantly like a loyal companion.

The jackal has golden rings around its neck, golden are his ears and gold the circles painted around his eyes. The walls around are all worn down by time and mold though and part of the pain has been rubbed off as age touched this grave. Still, the ark is in perfect condition and at a closer inspection, Minhyuk concludes there’s not a single scratch in sight. “It’s not gilded,” he gasps as his knuckles graze the cold box. “This is  _pure_ gold!”

Changkyun stares at the totem and although Anubis is not directly facing him, he can feel an intimidating gaze burning his skull. He circles the small annex, a tight grip on his torch and dark eyes scrutinizing the hieroglyphs around the statue looking for some sort of answer. The room is laughably small, proving his point on how insignificant the 13th Dynasty truly was. A time ruled by chaos and poverty and doomed from the beginning with its unfortunate number.

Actually, thirteen carried less vile implications for the Egyptians and even though the number did symbolize death, its denotation was one of transformation and change, rebirth and acknowledgment of glorious eternal life. Much like the tarot card but Changkyun stopped minding those sort of senseless things ages ago. Searching and interpreting symbols could take you only this far in life and if any of that were true, then by all means the 13th dynasty was supposed to bring prosperity to the people and a long-lasting peace instituted through drastic and abrupt changes. Instead, archaeologists have only confirmed a troubled period in which the country was split in two once more with a 14th Semitic dynasty ruling over the eastern Delta. 

The walls don’t reveal too much as they speak of the rituals pharaoh Chae has to survive on his way to Aaru, the twelve gates of hell he has to pass through to prove himself worthy of the riches of the afterlife, of meeting Osiris and all the other gods. In fact, Changkyun can count in total twelve major and minor gods mentioned above the statue, something quite unusual.

Osiris and Anubis are bound to be there as gods of the underworld, so is Horus as a divine counterpart of the pharaoh. Isis and Thoth, gods of life, magic and wisdom, are rarely missed as well. However, Changkyun has never seen representations of Seth in a place that is not exclusively built to worshiping the god of chaos and storms. Nobody sane would want Seth guarding their resting place, yet the unmistakably evil figure looms at the end of the list with an insatiable hunger for power.

Naturally, good and evil cannot be separated and the two follow each other everywhere like two sides of the same coin, one force keeping the other at bay and upholding stability in the universe. Besides, Changkyun reminds himself, Seth does fulfill an essential positive world in the myths − he is Ra’s best combatant, joining the god on his nightly journey on his solar boat to defeat the serpent Apep.

“Let’s go,” Changkyun suddenly calls to his friends, overwhelmed by his surroundings and the urgent need to flee away from that malevolent figure. Minhyuk gives him a confused look, still studying the best way to carry this massive golden ark through the narrow tunnel and out of the tomb, while Hoseok happily drops his camera to hang loosely around his neck and shakes the instant photograph he’s just taken of Anubis.

When Minhyuk protests against wasting the golden opportunity they’ve been given − because of course it is golden − he has little chance of changing the others’ minds with a stubborn Changkyun and trembly Hoseok teaming up. Reluctantly, they go back to the empty antechamber and Changkyun is more determined than ever to find the mummy of pharaoh Chae and leave the sacred grounds at once. His hands are shaking and there’s underlying electricity sparking all around him, as though he’s been charged by lighting and now releasing all of that energy.

The youngest spots the fake door immediately this time around and doesn’t hesitate to force it open with a mattock and his bare hands, the sight a proper heart attack trigger for any conservative scholar.

Hoseok and Minhyuk help him put aside the heavy stone as a new room is revealed and the air becomes more suffocating than before as though the pharaoh himself was smothering them with his presence. Changkyun steps in first, single-minded on locating the sarcophagus so certain that once he’s found the dead king this strange sensation that took over him since he entered the tomb will disappear. His vision is immediately blinded when the flames illuminating his path expose all the treasures pharaoh Chae took to his grave.

“Osiris Almighty,” Minhyuk whistles wide-eyed from behind the leader. “We are  _filthy_ rich!”

Hoseok is too overwhelmed by the sight to respond, instinctively clutching his camera and documenting every single item he can observe. A golden chariot, golden throne, golden chests that surely bore more gold in them, decayed books and offerings, more crystals than you could dig in a mine, jewelry and painted jars, and even a life-sized statue of the falcon god Horus. 

Changkyun swears the statue’s eyes glinted when they broke into the burial chamber. The sarcophagus is massive and the sole object made out of humble granite, although no doubt the second one inside is festooned with jewels and the corpse deposited within plated with more priceless treasures. He glances up at the hieroglyphs, avoiding the temptation of running and filling his bag with precious stones but searching for more clues about this ancient mystery instead. Seth’s figure looms in a corner once more, guarded by the two fierce goddesses − Bastet and Hathor, other glorious warriors of Ra.

The solar disk itself reigned in one corner while Osiris and Isis rested on the opposite wall, seemingly banished to the world of the dead and far away from the sun. These are pages from a different  _Book of the dead_ , one Changkyun can’t recognize at all. Perhaps the most striking is the obvious absence of Anubis, the deity omnipresent everywhere else in the tomb but not in the chamber he is meant to guard.  

There are also a few cartouches that stand out, two in reference to the deceased confusing Changkyun’s mind further. The pharaoh is suddenly called upon to face his judgment, to battle the demons and fight the chaos on his way to paradise, but he is given two names Changkyun has a hard time reading. For once, this is really strange for the brunet since his father taught him how to read the ancient symbols way before he could read a book in his own language.

Second, the names sound incredibly foreign for a pharaoh and no known ruler has ever lied over Egypt bearing two titles. The relicts are dated from around 1700 BC, Changkyun reminds himself, and the country was terribly divided by foreign invasions back then. What are the chances of King Chae being a foreigner himself? Except, the Chae that’s been marked so neatly from the entrance and up to the burial chamber has now been shifted into a, “Horus Khyun,” Changkyun mumbles the symbols. And just a line under, “Prince Honamun.” 

Peculiar. Sure enough,  _Horus_ was the title given to all pharaohs as divine reincarnations of the cosmic lord of Egypt. And royal names often ended with a reference to the gods on the order of  _Amun_ , the primordial one who created the universe. Ramses, to name just one example, meant “born-of-Ra”. Nefertiti’s full name spelled “the beautiful woman of Aten has arrived”, though her rulership is highly questionable and Changkyun isn’t too keen on the Amarna cult five dynasties later either.

What actually bothers him is how the names Khyun and Honamun have absolutely no relevance whatsoever to anything he’s seen in this tomb so far. Heavenly protector, messenger of Amun, strange name choices for a king and definitely unique. Was the pharaoh’s name Honamun during his princeship and later on embraced the title of Khyun once he raised to the throne? Or were these two different people after all? But then, what is their connection to the enigmatic King Chae whose bravery is so highly spoken of all over the place?

Perhaps opening the coffin would elucidate these questions and shed some light on the truth. Sarcophagus often contained far more inscriptions personally related to the dead than the tomb itself, revealing the actual story behind each individual − or as close to the actual story as the pharaoh ordered it to be. However, before Changkyun can even approach the remains of the supposed pharaoh Chae (Khyun? Honamun?), the sound of footsteps stops him in his tracks.

Minhyuk and Hoseok freeze as well hearing the distinctive sound of murmurs echoed through the tunnel they opened earlier. There's no need to look at each other to know they've been caught and their last resort is a hasty escape. Cursing under his breath, the thieves’ chief throws the torch to the ground and covers it with one of the thick putrid rugs meant to adorn the pharaoh’s eternal palace. Hoseok is quick to shut Minhyuk up before the other protests over ruining valuable treasures and drags his friends further back into the treasury, coins and rock clinking under their feet. The success of their bailout depends on utter darkness and silence, which is harder to achieve when shadows of the past come to haunt them. 

“Stop right there!” Son Hyunwoo shouts heroically as he shows himself in the doorway and Changkyun has to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at Hyunwoo’s lame attempt to rescue his precious mummy. Be that as it may, Minhyuk has already claimed the treasure as his own from the moment rumors of the Son digging up a tomb started spreading around so he is not that enthusiastic about giving it up right now.

Changkyun’s jaw clenches when he sees his friend pulling out a gun and pointing it at Son, not a scenario he would have liked to find himself in yet he considered it a possibility all along. His hand hovers over his holster though, ready to come and support Minhyuk if need be. “We don’t want to cause you any harm,” Hoseok suddenly speaks up, forever the peace seeker and caring soul that he is no matter what − until the people he cares about get hurt. Then Changkyun knows he can count on the oldest to stand their ground. 

“Then put that weapon down,” Son demands, face firm and voice steady like a rock. The little gang of bandits remains still, their muscles stiff and looks undefeated. They’ve faced greater challenges than a man of Hyunwoo’s might poses so as long as the nobleman doesn’t bring his guards to protect him, Changkyun thinks they would be able to leave just fine. Their pockets are already filled with enough gold to last them a decade and there are always more tombs to raid and treasures to steal.

He knows Minhyuk, however, is determined to leave this crypt only with the mummy of a king. Maybe he’s finally found an equal in stubbornness. One could easily mistake Son for one of those emotionless statues from a museum with hollow eyes that follow you wherever you go. He blends it quite easily with the ancient ruins. It’s one of the reasons Changkyun was always reticent to befriend him when they passed each other on Oxford’s hallways and bumped into the Egyptology section of the library. But that was eons ago and now is a different time.

Now Changkyun is no longer looking for friends and he has more than enough allies to last for a lifetime, so yanking his own weapon out and pointing it at the second figure lingering behind Hyunwoo brings no remorse in his chest. And even if it did, he learned some time ago to ignore it. “Move aside,” he warns Son only once out of courtesy but his eyes are fixated on the other man, finger ready to pull the trigger and shoot out a vengeful bullet.

He’s passively waited for a chance like this, a chance to even out the score and let his rival know what he had to endure in the past because of him. He wouldn’t consider murder as his first option though, he is just a thief not a killer after all. Still, when light flickers over Yoo Kihyun’s arrogant face, when it’s reflected in his round glasses and makes his eyes appear lit by fire itself, Changkyun feels prepared to let go of his last morals. In the end, it is Yoo himself who pushed him to become the way he is now. 

“Im Changkyun,” Yoo seems to realize his identity as he steps closer but Changkyun won’t give him the satisfaction of flinching when hearing his voice. “I said, move aside,” he repeats himself instead, hoping Hoseok would join with his own gun to increase their chances of escape.

They could stay in this very position for a very long time, Minhyuk pointing his pistol at Son, Son targeting Chankyun, and Changkyun aiming for Kihyun’s head. Brains were useless for Egyptians anyway and they would throw them out once the process of mummification commenced. Ruining Yoo’s most treasured possession, his enormous and unequaled intellect, looked like proper revenge.

“I should have known only an inconsiderate brute like you would break into the tomb!” Yoo says inflamed with anger. Good, Changkyun likes watching his enemy burn. Maybe he’ll have the chance to see it for real this time.

“I am willing to let you three go if you empty your bags now. There’s no need to shed blood, let’s solve this out like gentlemen,” Son offers so kindly and sincerely it disturbs Minhyuk who can only scoff in response. Privileged people are really something else, aren’t they, thinking there’s always a right choice to be made. “I think we’ll pass,” the silver-haired man smiles viciously sweet before he shoots a warning right by Hyunwoo’s right foot. It is without a doubt a threat, one the egyptologists should mind seriously but Hyunwoo is too clouded by his principles to notice he is clearly outnumbered in all possible ways.

“I say you two turn around and we’ll let you live. If we are willing, of course,” Minhyuk bargains with a mocking grin, head slightly tilted to the side. His grip on the pistol might look lax but Changkyun has seen it enough times to know the older could probably take down Son in a duel. He is almost looking forward to seeing that, but Yoo’s presence turns everything bitter and heinous and drains out any drop of happiness from his being.

Hoseok watches from a few feet behind, hands still gripping his cherished camera, uncertain of how to proceed. His loyalty dictated a simple resolution but his heart knows this is not what he should be doing. Glancing from Changkyun to the intruders − are they really the intruders when the trio is in fact the one to break in? − he tries to draw any potential connection between them, but none appeal to the photographer.

And then, the thieves’ leader takes the final decision to settle this tension for all, the echo of another gunshot shaking the whole tomb and unsettling the dead. The bullet barely misses Kihyun, grazing the scholar’s shoulder and pushing him to the ground before Hyunwoo can drag him to safety back in the burial chamber. Back pressed against the sarcophagus, Kihyun is still shaking out of shock, pupils blown out in the now complete darkness.

After all these years, Im Changkyun has returned to ruin whatever is left of him. Very well then. Pushed by a rush of impulsiveness Hyunwoo has never witnessed from his friend before, Kihyun grabs Hyunwoo’s gun out of his hand and rebuffs. 

Inexperienced as he is, the bullet flies by Changkyun, far from harming any of the crooks who dared profane the tomb. Instead, it bends the golden armor of a statue he hasn’t noticed in the first place, the statue of the greatest warrior from all mythology. For a moment, the crypt is overtaken by an appropriate silence. Just a breath later, Changkyun and his gang of punks flee the treasury horrified, a troubled shriek causing Kihyun trepidations.

“You fucking idiot, you’ve set off the traps!” Changkyun spits out, yet takes refuge by Kihyun’s side behind the coffin. None of them have a torch anymore and the light of the one Kihyun dropped in the treasury is slowly fading. However, the men cannot miss the blue glint of two almond eyes nor the heavy steps coming in their direction. When the light disappears so does their hope. For they are to confront a force beyond anything humane.

“Horus,” Kihyun gasps noticing the falcon mask.

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would you like me to post a guide thread on twitter with all the gods, rituals, places and other important facts for this au? please vote [here! ](https://twitter.com/seoulfulnights/status/1152325848273424384)
> 
> thank you for your support and please anticipate the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

Bravery is not the first attribute one comes up with when describing Kihyun. With his round glasses, ironed pants and smartass attitude, the scholar seems completely disconnected from the idea of fighting. Whenever possible, he avoided physical confrontation or tried to outmatch his opponent in wits. Always calculating, always searching for the safest escape route. Yet there are no other viable options at the moment, after all, how do you outmatch a literal god of war? At six feet tall, the statue is nothing if not imposing and bloodcurdling, freezing the intruders in their place with his piercing blue gaze.

Made out of pure black obsidian, the god still manages to shine brighter than the sun as he steps into the funerary chamber, flames lining up along the walls to greet the great king of gods, awakened by the darkest of magic any of them could have imagined. Kihyun doesn’t want to believe such a thing, he urges himself repeatedly to wake up from this nightmare within another nightmare, a vile trick played on him by the wicked desert. Such creatures belonged to fiction, not to reality. 

Yet no matter how many times he bites his tongue and pinches his thigh, the tremendous image of Horus doesn’t falter before them. Above his linen kilt rested a royal tunic made out of golden chains and plates which dangle with each step he got closer to his enemy. His strong arms are graced by precious bracelets and a golden coat of mail hugs his middle, muscles still protruding through the clashing metal meant to protect in battle.

A rich _usekh_ lies heavily on his collar bones, the broad necklace bearing glaring rubies and jewels, while the typical pharaoh headdress covers his falcon head, the two large flaps hanging on each side of the avenger’s face. Horus’ beak is obviously golden, poured out of the richest mines of Nubia to appease the solar god, and his glare remains vicious, ready to strike whoever stands in his way. Looking at the tall spear the god carried, Kihyun doesn't need to investigate further in his books to know they're all doomed.

"Who trespasses into my home?" Horus’ voice rattles the tomb and Hoseok falls back on the ground from the sudden roar, quickly retreating farther until his back hits a pillar. He watches in horror as the strange statue arises from the treasury, when he could have sworn before it was nothing more than one of those weird Egyptian gods with a human body and a bird head. If he wasn’t frozen in fear, he would certainly reach for his camera and take one last shot. Perhaps eons from now, archaeologists would stumble upon it and know better than to awaken this monster like they did.

Next to him, Minhyuk, although shaking in his boots when facing the real curse of the pharaohs, points his gun boldly at the threatening creature. He has come across many strange things ever since joining Changkyun in a never-ending quest for treasures. Forgotten traps almost killing them on the spot, poisonous snakes and scorpions infiltrating their tents, lions chasing them across the savannah, even a few Bedouins ambushing their tiny camp believing they were actually demons. 

Now they are the ones convicted to fight a demon. “Who the fuck is this pigeon?” His voice comes out surprisingly firm and when Horus takes one step closer to him, Minhyuk doesn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. His eyes only register dust that forces them closed and his ears buzz from the shot before the bird angrily croaks enraged from pain. When Minhyuk scrunches at the dark threat, he notices a pair of golden wings has grown out of the god’s back and came to shield him from the bullet, his invincible defense impenetrable against mundane weapons.

The falcon’s eyes glimmer at the insulting question and he swishes his gigantic spear knocking out the tributes placed around King Chae’s sarcophagus as well as the weapon out of Minhyuk’s hand. The bounty hunter stares horrified. It is the first time someone manages to disarm him − and with just one swift move at that.

“I am Horus, the eternal King of all that is. Bow before me or meet your death!” the living statue roars, spear splitting the room in two as it is hurled at the one guilty of unleashing the curse. For an expert in ancient curses and all they entail, Kihyun finds himself useless and at a loss when nothing was ever written on how to combat the plagues hunting down the sacrilegious men robbing graves. Too petrified to react to what appears to be certain death, Kihyun can only stare at Changkyun’s frame coming in his line of vision before he finds himself pressed to the ground, safe from the golden pike meant to behead him.

His eyes restlessly look for answers, searching, always searching, but Changkyun’s face is as unreadable as he remembers it to be, unchanged by age and weather. A piece of marble carved by the Nile, cold and beautiful and relentless about anything he sets his mind on. There have been years since they’ve been this close, years since he even heard about Changkyun’s existence alone, so why did the younger save him when Kihyun is convinced the other would have let him die the last time they saw each other?

Without hesitation, Changkyun grabs Kihyun and shouts for everyone to retreat at once. Despite their previous conflict, nobody objects as survival surpasses any other pitiful fight. Without each other, the chances of making it out alive are reduced to null so a wordless truce comes into force instantly when Hyunwoo helps Hoseok stand up, the poor photographer still trembling in shock while Horus prepares to strike again.

The floor vibrates by divine will, an earthquake shaking the cursed tomb and wrecking all that stood in its wake. Jars crack open on the floor, a senet table spills its pieces all around, and rocks fall out from the ceiling, barely missing a fatal injury for the intruders. There is not much room to hide, and something tells Changkyun it wouldn’t be too efficient either, not with those all-seeing blue eyes on their tracks. If this creature is really meant to resemble Horus, or worse, if the creature is Horus himself, then there’s no possible way to defeat him – Horus never loses any battles. 

According to the myths, Osiris was the first pharaoh, reigning over a wealthy Egypt alongside his sister and wife Isis. His brother Seth, the god of chaos and of storms, had always been envious of Osiris since he only had the barren deserts to rule over while Osiris’ lands were blessed by the Nile. When Osiris had an affair with Seth’s wife Nephthys though, mistaking the goddess for her sister Isis, Seth unleashed his fury and cut his brother into a million pieces, blowing them in the desert and proclaiming himself the new king. A mourning Isis went in search of Osiris and tried to use her healing powers to resurrect him, but it's not until Anubis had turned Osiris in the very first mummy that they succeeded. 

However, since Osiris could no longer rule over the living, he became the god of the afterlife, and left Egypt to his son, Horus, the rightful heir to the throne. Born with only one purpose in mind, Horus wanted to avenge his father's death and defeat his uncle who usurped the throne from him so he challenged Seth in battle. Their fights lasted centuries and each time Horus turned up victorious, using cunningness or sheer force to crush his evil uncle until, finally, the other gods decided to name him the new pharaoh. If a powerful deity like Seth stronger than all mankind could not get close to subjugating Horus’ rage, what does that leave for them mortals?

All of a sudden, upsetting a god whose entire existence revolves around revenge seemed like a very bad idea and for a brief moment, Changkyun ponders an exchange. They don’t all have to die if bird-brain over there just wanted Kihyun.

Yet he just saved the rat from an improvised guillotine for reasons he can’t fully understand himself. Blaming nostalgia is a safe bet, but he can’t rely on feelings to dig his way out. _The end justifies the means_ has been Changkyun’s motto for a long time now, and it is without a doubt the reason he is still alive, although the current situation threatens to change that.

A direct face-off against Horus is clearly not advisable, not with his ancient powers and godly might. Trapping him to allow sufficient time to flee the cursed tomb doesn’t look too promising either when the falcon is capable of smashing everything thrown his way. So the most logical solution Changkyun can come up with is to split up. Horus can’t follow five people at once and, hopefully, Changkyun and his friends would be able to escape while Yoo and Son deal with the damage.

Treasures and riches be damned, there are more tombs to rob in the Valley and more gold to be discovered, but they’re not sons of Bastet blessed with nine lives. 

Naturally, not everyone thinks rationally like Im Changkyun, which is something he expects from Hoseok who is still in utter panic when Horus, although slower than them considering his massive and heavy built, finally catches up in the antechamber. And, of course, he should have seen it coming when Hyunwoo - the ever hero - shoots blindly behind him in a poor attempt to damage their hunter.

The only effects bullets have on the ancient monster though is to further encourage him to spill his rage at them and Changkyun doesn’t need any warning to duck when the sharp spear gets swung once more with such force it sends Hyunwoo flying into a wall.

“Vermins! Know my wrath!” Horus croaks, lunging his spear at the one who dared attack his heavenly being and without quick reflexes, Hyunwoo would have certainly been lying in a bloodbath but he rolled over in the nick of time as soon as his back made contact with the stone. The ceiling crumbles once more, tiny rocks falling above them in a thin rain of miniature asteroids and Minhyuk worries the tomb would collapse over them before this huge pigeon actually kills the ones who've summoned him. 

Putting all his fighter skills to test, Hyunwoo makes a grab at Horus' calf and tries to bring the falcon down to his level, letting his instincts lead him in battle. Hyunwoo, unfortunately, miscalculates his luck, not taking into consideration that the enemy is still, after all, literally made out of stone and thus at least three times heavier than he could lift alone.

 _What an incredible image, man struggling against god,_ Hoseok thinks, his artistic eye breaking through the most vulnerable of states, yet he quickly dismisses such ideas.

More than anything, Hoseok can't stand seeing others suffer when he is so powerless in front of the calamity they're tussling. He hasn't known Son Hyunwoo personally before tonight but he's heard enough intel from Minhyuk earlier to know what kind of man Hyunwoo is. He knows he is the kind of man with honor, the type who keeps all his promises and is always truthful, a man who is just and right towards people no matter who they are or where they're coming from. An admirable man who invested his whole life in art and treasures the past for its historical value rather than trivialities whose shine dazzle your perception of what's actually important. A strong man he deeply aspires to be as well.

But no matter how great Hyunwoo’s character might be, his prestige does nothing to influence the scales. This is not the Hall of Two Truths where the gods judge your sins according to the path of Ma'at. Being a good person won't save Hyunwoo from having his soul crushed by one of the very gods meant to impose the principles of Ma’at.

A harsh kick is all it takes for the nobleman to be put down, and even someone as insensitive as Changkyun flinches at the crack that echoes when Horus steps on Hyunwoo’s chest and breaks what sounds like a couple of ribs. With the same sympathy one looks at a bug crawling by their feet, Horus raises his majestic weapon and prepares to plunge it right through Hyunwoo’s skull.

And then a sudden warcry distracts the avenger from finishing his job, some pest temporarily blinding his eyes that see beyond the realm of men. Pest is, in fact, just one of Lee Minhyuk’s many names.

"Are you always this grumpy or has someone ruffled your feathers?", Minhyuk laughs halfheartedly, hiding his dread behind dry humor while he drapes himself idly over the statue’s back. Without the others noticing, he suddenly left Hoseok’s side and plunged himself at the murderous god with the selfless intent of saving Hyunwoo at least some time to get away from Horus. Changkyun stares perplexed, wondering what magic possessed this tomb for such a strange thing to happen.

Out of all the people he’s met in his life, Minhyuk must be the most selfish and egotistical prick he’s come across, maybe save for that rat Yoo. Certainly, the self-proclaimed silver scorpion has saved his skin a couple of times and a dozen more Hoseok’s whenever they’d run into a dead-end. However, they are partners in crime and therefore obey different rules, rules that dictate nothing about dramatic acts of humanity towards their direct rivals.

At core, Minhyuk has remained a mercenary willing to commit any offense and fraud as long as he could win something out of it. Does he not see they’re going to miss their only shot to escape by getting even more involved fighting this plague? 

Minhyuk struggles for a few moments, hands busy seeking to snatch the spear out of Horus’ grip and disarm the deadly fellow. In normal circumstances, Minhyuk would have had the guy dead by now, after all, he’s capable of ending someone’s life in plenty of ways once he gets this close to them and if Horus were a vulnerable guy, it would have been easy for Minhyuk to strangle him or cut his throat open with one of those pointy feathers of his.

Still, these are definitely not normal circumstances, not when he’s having a hard time staying perched over wings made out of gold and belonging to a living statue made out of stone. Regret hits him as he realizes the wasted opportunity of blowing Horus’ brains out − wait does he even have a brain? − or at least trying to but his pistol still lies lost somewhere on the tomb’s floor. Barehanded and barely in any position to even reach the obsidian pole, Minhyuk comes to realize he shouldn’t have underestimated his rival and jumped at the first opening he saw.

Livid with fury at the tremendous blasphemy, a glowering disk of fire grows on top of Horus’ head before his wings spread out menacing terror in the mere mortals surrounding him. Now that dozens of flames lit up the tomb, Kihyun is able to admire them in all their glory − solid, yet elegant and definitely royal, those were not wings of a messenger or of a healer but those of an invincible warrior with bloodlust in his eyes. The fiery explosion sends Minhyuk tumbling down all the way across the antechamber. He hisses at the harsh impact against a wrecked wall with unintelligible markings while Hyunwoo himself groans relieved off the burden pressing down his chest.

“You dare attack me, you dirty dung beetle?" Minhyuk has no vacancy to deliver yet another smart-mouthed line to combat the terrible insult, Horus already up in his face carried by wings at the speed of light. The solar disk above his head, not unlike the one depicted on every wall of this tomb, seems to have increased his already unimaginable powers and when an almighty hand almost crushes his windpipe, the silver scorpion fears it might be time to say goodbye. 

"I shall feed you directly to Ammit," Horus croaks once more, the noise vile and scratching to the eardrums, but not as torturous in comparison to the vicious grip he has around Minhyuk’s neck as he raises up the weak human from the ground. Whoever is that Ammit pal Horus mentioned, Minhyuk’s pretty sure he’d rather have a cup of tea with them than prolong this ridiculous chit chat with pigeon-head here. Horus appears to share his thoughts or maybe he can even read them.

At this point, Minhyuk’s uncertain what comes from his delirious state and what is actually real, but he is very much aware of a cold blade pressed against his chest and of how his trachea becomes more constricted by the second. Despite all the writhing and thrashing from earlier to release himself from the mortal trap, Minhyuk goes still in an instant. Hoseok screams his friend’s name in agony at the sight of blood trickling down his mouth and Changkyun collapses to the ground on his knees in prayer. 

But no amount of offerings, no heated pledges, no enchanted orison could save Minhyuk from the spear thrust in his heart and a second later, Horus lets Minhyuk drop to the floor lifeless. No one dares to breathe. No one moves even a single inch, waiting for the arrogant man to spit some witty comeback insulting his reaper and even Horus looks doubtful at his own work.

Yet Minhyuk remains still like a mummy and quiet like the eternal river his soul has embarked on a long and dangerous journey. Unwavering and driven by the ugliest of griefs, Hoseok throws himself at Horus in utter rage and surprises the god with a hefty punch between the eyes, gritting his teeth when his knuckles smash against the cold stone painfully and crack.

Horus regains his stance immediately, unbothered by the assault as though killing appeased some of his former fury.

Withdrawing his bloody spear from the body of his victim, the falcon uses the rod as a weapon, deeming Hoseok a worthy opponent deserving more than a quick ticket to the land of Osiris. Thankfully, the photographer’s taekwondo training is still deeply impregnated in his muscle memory and, with difficulty, he manages to dodge some of the potentially lethal hits and makes sure to roll far away from Horus whenever he ended up losing his footing.

Kihyun watches paralyzed by fear, eyes drifting from the battle to the one called Minhyuk, cold and pale and _dead_ , and then to his bestest friend still lying unconscious where Horus has had his way with him. Next to him, Changkyun is but a shell of his cunning self and Kihyun only recognizes the focused look, dark eyes zeroed on the solar disk above the statue head with murderous intent. The rest of his spirit seems to be lost though, overtaken by sorrow and shredded by misery, and the sight is so overly familiar Kihyun’s own heart aches more. 

The scholar shakes his head vehemently, discarding those feelings and urging himself to stay away from the past while the present is still in flames. Hoseok won’t be able to handle Horus for much longer and if they don’t act quickly, they’re doing nothing but waiting for their own execution to join Minhyuk.

_T_ _hink Kihyun, think. This is what you're good at._

His mind goes in overdrive searching for any details in the myths surrounding the divine sun child, any little hint that could lead them on the right path. Horus must have a weakness of sorts, not even deities are indestructible or perfect as both Osiris and Ra themselves proved in the legends, but what is the key to Horus’ defeat? As king over all of creation, Horus has the same heavenly duties as a pharaoh has on earth − defend Egypt from enemies and institute the principles of Ma’at − order, honor, harmony, and justice. 

However, it’s largely accepted Horus’ character hasn’t lined up with those sacred ideas all the time. In fact, most stories portray him as a liar and a cheater for behaving unscrupulous in his battles with Seth. Turning to his sacred mother Isis for help in each challenge  in the battle for the throne of gods and going as far as to cut off her head when she refused to take part in his schemes to destroy her brother, resorting to ploys designed by the god of wisdom Thoth to trap Seth in humiliating situations, and ruling over Egypt not much different from the tyrannical Ra.

Horus was far from the ideal image of a leader, the archetype conceptualized by the goddess of justice Ma’at herself. And yet, for millennia on end, Horus remained the symbol of Egyptian power and of the pharaoh, being one of the most represented deities in temples and mortuary monuments alike. Priests of Anubis have even charmed a spell to call upon the god when misfits attempted to profane their late pharaoh’s tomb, as they have come to discover the hard way. 

Talking about Horus means talking about the ultimate pharaoh whose attributes are augmented a thousand times. So maybe the proper way of defeating Horus could be unraveled by analyzing the ancient rulers of Egypt. Physical strength is useless against the falcon, as both Hyunwoo and Minhyuk proved, engaging in some battle of wits would also lead nowhere even if Horus himself is not the smartest bird of the flock.

Their weapons had no effect either, the indestructible wings acting as the world’s most efficient bulletproof shield. In the legends, Horus had only one downfall − blindness. During his many battles with Seth, the god of chaos gouged one of his eyes out, leaving his nephew blind and vulnerable in battle despite him mastering the art of hand to hand combat as well as skillfully maneuvering the spear. Later on, Thoth or Isis or perhaps his lover Hathor, depending on the story you want to believe, has managed to heal the lost eye forging the mightiest weapon Horus could use, one granting him divine sight and absolute vision which finally turned the scales in his favor. 

The statue’s eyes have been glaring blue ever since the defense mechanism was triggered so absurdly by Kihyun ill-handling Hyunwoo’s gun, and they truly strike fear when joined by that red disk above his head. Ominous and terrifying at once, the omniscient blue daze fascinates Kihyun to the point he is unable to look away from Horus’ imperial face. The most valuable symbol of a nation, right before him, prepared to slaughter an innocent man after he’s put at least one more down, possibly two.

And all because of him, because of his negligence and impulsive reaction.

“Cover me!” Kihyun hisses in Changkyun’s direction and doesn’t wait even a second for his sworn enemy to answer before he dashes right past Horus and down to the burial chamber. The statue has clearly been cursed to protect the tomb from any invader and from anything foreign, so Kihyun is suddenly struck by the idea that maybe, just maybe, the key to vanquish this pest was hidden inside the tomb the whole time. 

He finally takes a good look around, senses heightened by all the adrenaline pumping in his blood and survival instincts yelling at him to quickly recover what he needs. The tomb, or at least what he’s seen of it, is incredibly small, a clear sign this exceptional pharaoh supposed to have ruled Egypt for the span of an entire dynasty actually only lasted for a short reign which ended unexpectedly before a worthy tomb could be dug in the Valley.

Ignoring all the twisted lies spread across the ancient walls, Kihyun searches in his own head for the answers. The corridor leading them down into the tomb only offered stories of the deceased, depicting scenes from his life along with passages taken out of the Book of Dead meant to guide the spirit of the pharaoh in the afterlife and help him achieve immortality. The antechamber that could probably collapse over them if Horus continued his rampage, continued in a similar manner, although the walls have taken far more damage in time and most paintings are impossible to decipher.

The massive stone sarcophagus rested in the middle of the burial chamber, while all sorts of offerings were placed against the western side, from spices and rotten food to little alabaster figurines of servants to satisfy all of his needs in his heavenly palace from beyond. The four canopic jars managed to remain in a vertical position despite Horus’ little swordsmanship show from earlier but the rest of the protective tributes meant to provide to King Chae once he reaches Aaru are completely smashed on the floor. The ground shakes, there’s a gruesome cry rivaled by the sound of slashing through flesh, and at last Changkyun’s incensed voice reaches Kihyun.

“ _I’m gonna pluck your feathers one at a time and then you can go burn in hell!”_

Without thinking, without knowing what he’s doing but being aware of exactly what has to be done, Kihyun ceases his fruitless stalling and runs into the treasury instead where he’s seen so much fortune already as he and Hyunwoo have busted the three thieves. 

And right in the middle, on top of a marble stand surrounded by more gold than Kihyun dreamt of ever coming upon in his life, rested a dagger just like the one he hoped to find. Rather than a weapon of war, Kihyun could tell he is actually looking at a sacrificial knife the pharaoh would use during a ritual of appeasing the gods. Ideal to conciliate and release the monster that killed with no mercy in the other chamber using the only language his beak appears to be fluent in.

Kihyun has never been a brave lad, in the past, he even used to be called a snitch for turning in those rebellious enough to break the rules, and he's had a great deal to suffer for upkeeping his virtuous principles. However, for Kihyun rules are sacred and they must be obeyed at all costs, regardless of any negative consequences that might fall on him. Betrayals and backstabbing, he could handle those. The real question now is whether Horus could. There's only one way to figure it out, only one way to test his theory, and despite being agnostic to the core, despite questioning all in existence, Kihyun finds himself praying. 

Few would consider his built to be athletic, and Kihyun has to step on his ego and agree with that, but in such distress, he succeeds to cross the distance in record time. _Please, let Changkyun be alive_. A pang of overwhelming guilt builds up in his throat turning the already smothering dry air into a sandstorm flooding his breathing ways. He feels sick to his stomach knowing that down this very lane he’s running, his best friend is injured and most likely turned into a complete wreck if he is still alive at that.

Minhyuk, however, certainly is not, not with a six feet tall spear piercing through his heart and he swears he could almost see the trickster’s soul raise up and embark on Ra’s barge. Hoseok was already in awful shape when Kihyun finally got the guts to react to the catastrophe prompted right in front of his eyes and given the previous circumstances, assuming the worst outcome of the battle against Horus sounds like a safe bet.

What he returns to makes his blood run cold, although he expected such a scenario as soon as he plunged and took the enormous risk of leaving Changkyun behind. Now Hoseok lay on the floor unconscious, not too far away from Minhyuk’s cold body and Kihyun has a hard time figuring out whether the photographer’s heart was still beating. Changkyun is not too far behind catching on his lost teammates, empty bullets drizzled by his feet after he’s exhausted his last resources.

Although his steps have been anything but quiet, the falcon doesn’t look to pay any attention to Kihyun’s entry, thrilled instead to finish off his weakened adversary. _Now or never._  “Hey, Horus!” the scholar shouts, surprising both god and man with his sudden intrusion. “I am the one who awakened you, I trespassed into your sacred grounds. Come have your revenge in you dare.” The carefully chosen words have the exact effect Kihyun’s wanted them to have and in the blink of an eye, Horus lunges to attack him, blue eyes sparkling with absolute madness.

But Kihyun knew something about Horus that maybe not even the god himself was aware of yet. Kihyun knew that when Minhyuk jumped on his back courageously to defend a fallen Hyunwoo, Horus’ divine vision has let him down and did not intercept in time the ambush. He knows that the warrior let him leave the chamber, although he had every means of keeping him prisoner or killing him on the spot for fleeing. So Kihyun reasonably concludes that the almighty pharaoh, the falcon with perfect sight which transcends this plane of existence, is, in fact, completely blind.

Minhyuk’s tactic would definitely be the best approach then, taking the avenger by surprise and attacking him from behind, but Kihyun couldn’t risk stabbing Horus with Changkyun in such close proximity if his hypothesis proved to be incorrect. At least one of them has to survive this massacre and if all fails, Changkyun could use this opportunity to run far away from the curse and live to tell the tale. But he doesn’t. Instead, just as Horus reaches Kihyun, enheartened to shred the intruder’s body in a million pieces like Seth has done with Osiris in the past, Changkyun uses his last bullet senselessly aiming for one of his wings. 

Inefficient as it has been the previous times, it distracts Horus for the briefest of moments which grants Kihyun the chance of thrusting the dagger right between those horrifying blue eyes. The solar disk floating above the falcon grows in size considerably, turning brighter and brighter until light engulfs the entire tomb and blinds the last two standing. With his eyes closed to protect them from the supernova explosion, Kihyun invokes his last grains of strength to pull out the magic dagger from the god’s skull and shove it straight into his obsidian black heart for good measure.

And then, as though all that happened had been just a trial, as though their friends’ murders could have easily been avoided, the statue crumbles into thousands of inoffensive tiny pieces and collapses to the ground, Horus’ spear clashing against the concrete in one last bow before the enemy strong enough to defeat him. In ancient times, this would have crowned Kihyun as the real and legitimate successor but in their present, it only leaves him a bitter taste of incapability in his mouth.

“Y-You…” Changkyun speaks at last, eyes blown wide at the rubble that used to be Horus himself. “You destroyed Horus.” Kihyun has no chance to reply, no chance to excuse his actions that have lead to the destruction of three human lives, for when he opens his mouth to speak, it’s not his voice that comes out but a growl, echoing from the annex. With no hesitation, Changkyun sprees and grabs Horus’ forgot spear, certain that he’d be a better option for handling its sharp edge.

“More traps?” Kihyun hisses, squinting his eyes to see through the darkening chamber that lost its blazing lights once the sun god was set to rest. Changkyun doesn’t answer, he has no answer, but when he sees the dark shadow lurking, crawling, creeping up towards them from the annex, he realizes Horus was not the only god priests have entrapped into this tomb.

The jackal need not be named, famous beyond his world for his black fur and pointy ears painted with gold. A heavy ankh dangles around his neck much like a modern collar would, but this canine had no master. Free and untied from all but his duties, the god of the dead makes his presence known through a frightening bark. “Anubis.”

It is Kihyun who grabs a frozen Changkyun this time, dragging him all the way back to the burial chamber, a sacred ground for the black hound, a room where the guardian of the underworld dominated each corner. Yet a chamber where Kihyun, somehow, is certain no harm shall fall upon them, a place he knows would keep them both safe.

“Don’t look behind!” he shouts to the other, frantic steps hurrying to reach shelter and fingers tightly gripping around Changkyun’s wrist like his rival is the only one keeping him whole and grounded. With the same imbold that possessed him the moment he fetched the dagger, somewhat knowing it held the key to Horus’ defeat, Kihyun scrambles to the gigantic sarcophagus that could easily lodge a dozen men. “Quick, help me open it!” he asks of Changkyun, the younger too entranced to comment on how he takes no orders from someone like Yoo.

The growling is getting closer and closer, and Kihyun thanks Osiris and all benevolent gods above that the statues have been made out of stone and not a light material like wood which would have facilitated the beasts to run faster and catch them.

The cap is incredibly heavy and Kihyun knows for a fact at least six people are needed to lift it up, but he and Changkyun manage to stir it just enough for them to jump inside and take refuge from the creature on their tracks. Although the thought of being so close to a rotten corpse from thousands of years ago disgusts him, Changkyun follows Kihyun’s brilliant plan with no complaint, letting the cold and emptiness welcome him like old friends once they push back the cap to reseal the coffin as fast as they can.

And as soon as they profaned the pharaoh’s resting place, Changkyun observes with a raised eyebrow, “There’s no sarcophagus here.” 

Indeed, the sealed tomb of pharaoh Chae, the cursed tomb that ripped more than either Kihyun or Changkyun were willing to sacrifice for such a discovery, is completely barren of any king. It made no sense, it lacked any resemblance to reason or logic and Kihyun holds onto his head with his free hand, feeling himself slip and going mad − or maybe he has actually been mad all along. Changkyun’s hand in his own is a nice source of comfort though, one neither men are willing to let go of just yet.

The growling stops and in spite of its heavy structure, they can hear the jackal’s paws paddling against the ground, approaching the coffin cautiously. Kihyun holds his breath and wonders how long they can last like this, how long until they have to get out and fight another beast. They didn’t even get the time to check whether the rest were still alive or if they’re mourning three people tonight, and he’s unsure if he would be able to come up with such a brilliant plan again.

While Horus is known to be an arrogant prick who bows to no one and demands to be called the supreme god of all, Anubis is Osiris and Isis loyal ally, a humble god who watches over the gates of the underworld and makes sure each spirit ends up where they belong. No known flaws, no great legend to reveal potential weakness. And by all means, when the cap is raised up from the outside, Kihyun curses his luck to meet the human form of the underworld deity. 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

****

There’s not a single eternal day without bright sunshine warming up the Fields of Reeds, blue sky serene and unperturbed by any cloud filling up the blessed spirits with hope and joy only an immortal is able to know. Pharaohs of all dynasties lounge around the delta, enjoying the company of the Lady of Heaven and Mistress of Pure Water, the hippopotamus goddess Taweret who spoils them with her generosity.

Although hippopotamus are certainly frightening beasts responsible for bringing dozens of pharaohs in these lands alone, Taweret is a thoughtful mother to all and lets them lave in the sanctitude of the Nile that spills in the afterlife. Horus watches with unhidden displeasure from the high window of his royal palace, guarding over Aaru and protecting this virgin paradise that has been given in his care by the court of gods. “Everyone is already dead, your glare alone won’t kill them a second time,” comes a deep rumble, almost like a bark. 

Anubis dodges with elegance the spear thrown at his head, the tip slashing one of the flaps that adorns his jackal mask. He rarely steps foot into the lands of Aaru as his duties lie beside Osiris and not his impulsive and arrogant son Horus, but whenever he does, he prefers to embrace a form similar to that of a man, a form no mortal is able to glance at. Horus has set aside his glowering sun disk as well, along with his golden beak and torn wings, his looks resembling that of the greatest pharaohs’ he welcomed in his home.

Battle scars grace his arms and chest, memories he carries with pride from the ancient times he’s fought Seth in the very fields he conquered in the name of Osiris. “You, mutt!” Horus hisses enraged, Anubis becoming the receptacle of all that wrath some mere mortals unleashed. The god of the dead remains impassive, his remarkably blank mask in place not showing any sort of emotion, and letting his sarcastic words relay his thoughts. “Are you having trouble saying our goddess’ name? I am not a messenger but I’ll let Ma’at know you’re looking for her.”

“Quit playing, Anubis!” Horus shouts, his rage shaking the pillars of his very temple. “What were you thinking sending me in that forgotten tomb? The thirteenth dynasty hasn’t even made it to my kingdom, they don’t deserve my almighty protection.” Pushing past his guest, Horus pulls out his sturdy spear from the wall it got stuck in and then strides like a peacock towards his absolute throne. “The humiliation, being defeated by a needle,” he mumbles under his breath, trying to regain some composure and see beyond the red of his great-great-grandfather’s boat roaming in the distance.

Anubis watches him amused from the same place, not daring to get closer to the mad king Horus has become. Power is a dangerous gift, as AmunRa himself discovered before retreating on his barge and accepting the heavy task of keeping Apophis away from his creation. “Now tell me, dear cousin,” Horus demands, a scoff deeply encrusted on his face, “Why did you help that mundane and guide him? Why didn’t you let him die by my hands after you yourself asked me to descend in that hole to defend our lands?”

Anubis studies Horus’ expressions, his deep blue eyes mad with thunder, the tilt of his _Pschent_ as the red and white crown slides in place,the grip on his crook and flail when he crosses his arms across his chest in the traditional pharaonic posture. Horus might not have the wisest king to rule over Egypt, his violent reactions, his devilry, his egotism and vanity have left him to plenty of conflicts.

But in times of conflict, Horus has been the best choice for all of creation and there’s not one god Anubis trusts more − with the exception of the creator himself. He approaches his king with bold steps, stopping only a few feet from Horus’ throne, analyzing his surroundings with the utmost precision for what he has to divulge, might as well be considered a declaration of war.

“Because they are our only choice.”

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

Changkyun has studied Egyptian culture for decades, his father taking him along whenever he had to visit a digging site or hold a lecture for a class of uninterested students, and his own studies have only served to further consolidate his knowledge. So when a strange creature with a black desert wolf’s head on top of a human body lifts the lid of the sarcophagus he and Yoo have taken refuge in, he is no fool to mistake Anubis, Lord of the Underworld, god of embalmers and guide for the dead.

For a moment, he considers the possibility of them actually being dead, with no proper burial and no proper goodbyes before this black ripper came to collect their souls and lead them to the hall of judgment. His second thought is more bitter and less educated, derived from feelings he’s tried so hard to annihilate and failed to do so. If this was really Anubis, and he is unquestionably dead, Changkyun will not fight for his miserable life when all but one person he’s cared for has been taken away from him by the very same jackal staring him down.

Kihyun tries to scream, he unhinges his jaw, throat prepared to let out all the dread and sorrow he’s endured tonight, yet no sound emerges. When he tries to stand up and dash across the hallway and far from this second plague thrown their way, his limbs feel tied and bounded by thick bandages that don’t allow him to move a single muscle. If he could peek at Changkyun beside him, he’d notice the other is in a similar position, frozen by the power of the embalmer as though they’ve been wrapped up in linen and turned into mummies themselves.

They are stuck, utterly numb to their surroundings and hearts still mourning struck by grief,  and worse, completely at the mercy of the most heartless god of all. Anubis does not say a word as he works his magic, his tools polished and crafted with supreme care by Isis herself as they’ve first been used on her husband Osiris. Now it is Changkyun and then Kihyun who are exposed to the same primordial ritual, minds awake and bodies lax while the foremost embalmer smears their foreheads with myrrh. 

Although few artifacts have remained from followers of Anubis and he’s only ever seen them in books and on the walls of tombs, such as the one he’s trapped in, Changkyun can tell right away that the god is performing an _opening of the mouth_. A simple concept really, given that Egyptians believed souls needed food and water to survive the afterlife. Since the dead could not eat and they could not drink, they could not breathe nor speak, all priests had come to adopt this complicated custom of chanting spells and incantations and asking gods to bless the deceased and allow him to suckle on the offerings they bring forth.

There are no spells in Anubis’ work, no invoking of celestial favors when he already possesses all the sources required to complete the ritual he’s created himself eons ago. Were he and Kihyun common Egyptians, subjects to a pharaoh in the times of pyramids, it would have been the highest of honors to have Anubis embalm their bodies and prepare them to embark on the journey to immortality.

# 

Changkyun recognizes the _adze_ in a haze, a small tool shaped like an axe with a golden blade and when brought closer to his mouth, his lips immediately part and let Anubis capture his voice in a small jar. That part was not included in his edition of the Book of the dead, but there’s no one Changkyun can submit a formal complaint to. He fears for a moment that the next step would either be the hook shoved up his nose to smash his brains in a nice pink smoothie or his tongue being ripped off with hot iron, but the jackal turns away from him once he’s pleased with whatever he seized in that ceramic jar.

“W-what?” he asks confused, the words rolling differently off his tongue while the jackal repeats the same procedure on a terrified Yoo. The ritual has changed something inside of Changkyun but the only noticeable difference he can tell right away is the lack of stiffness in his shoulders and how easily it is for him to turn his head and watch Kihyun suddenly return in his own body as well.

They share an alarmed look fused in confusion, aware that the canine hybrid before them is not as much a guard of the tomb as a threat to their existence. Or perhaps, he is in fact their protector. The underworld lord has proved himself to be gentle and attentive and if Changkyun were to be honest, he’d admit that even his wounds from when Horus attacked him have ceased to ache and began to heal instead.

Kihyun appears to be on the same wavelength when he asks, “Why?”, perplexing Changkyun even more than Anubis’ behavior with the insolent tone he addressed their common enemy with. For all the years he’s known the older scholar, Kihyun has carried proper conduct, being polite and a good diplomat with superiors and those in lower ranks alike, not without holding his head up high as though his crown would topple over if he bowed. There was no trace of tact in his question, no fake humility, no reluctance to demand the answers they both honestly deserve.

Anubis gives them an amused look, if the curl in the corner of his muzzle is any indication, and his eyes sparkle with interest like he’s seen this scene before. “You will do great,” comes the jackal’s retort as he succumbs in the dusty floor and disappears in a pile of sand. 

Neither react for a long while, too shock and crippled with fear to do anything besides wait for the next attack. But Anubis doesn’t return and Horus remains destroyed where Kihyun dove the dagger through his skull, and for the first time since it has been opened, the tomb is quiet like a grave. “We should check on the others,” he speaks first, breaking the trance that took over Changkyun.

The truce between them is still standing as danger lurks in every corner like a predator waiting to maul its prey, and it would be foolish to split up and not collaborate after all that they have experienced. Forsaking the damn burial chamber, they brace themselves to find the three corpses of their friends where they’ve left them once Anubis showed up. But the antechamber looked completely untouched, actually, it looked even better than before. The walls appeared to be freshly painted, the pillars holding up the entire establishment solid and secure, and there are no signs of a gruesome battle taking place mere moments ago.

Moreover, Kihyun can’t see Hyunwoo anywhere and Minhyuk and Hoseok look to be gone as well. “Maybe they’re hiding, there’s an annex over here,” Changkyun suggests frowning, leading his rival to the room he’s discovered on his own, the room where he knows Anubis’ statue rested.

Indeed, the statue lies in the very same position he’s seen it earlier before the strange wolf came to life and paddled his way to scare the daylights out of them, but their friends are still nowhere to be seen. “One of them,” Kihyun stops to lick his dry lips as the sudden realization hits him that this is the first time he and Changkyun are acting like decent former colleagues to each other. “Hoseok, right? Maybe he managed to grab Hyunwoo and the other and escape while Anubis was busy with his necromancy.”

A far fetched idea, but Changkyun is desperate enough to be reunited with his partners to even believe Minhyuk was revived and waiting for him outside the tomb. They discern the same path they’ve come to learn like the back of their hand, only to discover the tomb has been sealed once more – and this time from the outside. Kihyun pales, and so do the few flames still providing enough light not to trip over their own feet.

“I know another passage,” Changkyun suddenly confesses, the knowledge just as foreign to him as it is to Kihyun, but the scholar blindly trusts him to lead them to the outside world and so he does.

They squish a second time in the hidden annex where the jackal almost looks happy to see them. Or at least Changkyun. He ignores the strange delusion though, more concerned with finally escaping the underground maze, and asks Kihyun to help him pick up the statue and move it aside, much like Kihyun dictated to hide in the coffin earlier as though the order came from somewhere else. Unlike the stone lid that was supposed to be as heavy as a car, the obsidian animal poses no obstacle for their forces once united and soon enough, a secret tunnel gets revealed.

The older egyptologist lets his rival lead the way again, since Changkyun clearly knew more about this tomb’s construction than he did – which could have come in handy prior to the traumatic events with Horus. They have to crawl for a long time through a suffocating channel made out of stone, probably the same one that was used by the servants of the pharaoh Chae who had been more loyal to their own person than their king. Kihyun can’t say he blames them, in fact, he is certain he shares their joy when the dim tunnel reaches an end and light begins to crack through his irises. And suddenly, they are back in the desert beneath the blazing Ra.

But instead of bumping into the three missings, they are welcomed by an entire cohort of bald Egyptians clad in linen kilts and carrying tributes for sacrifice in their arms. Their eyes are rimmed with dark kohl, the heavy liner putting to shame any smoky look Changkyun’s favorite singers usually put on for a show, and they each bear an ankh around their neck, like Kihyun and so many other scholars assumed priests would do in ancient times.

“The dead have risen!” One of the bald men shouts upon noticing the foreigners, and although it is not English that he’s speaking, Changkyun understands him perfectly. “The First of the Westerners has brought our king back!” Another joins in and immediately kneels before Kihyun displaying the utmost respect to the towering figures standing on top of the valley. “Oh praise our lord Horus from above, oh praise the Lord of the Sacred Lands,” comes a ray of voices Changkyun can’t distinguish anymore as they merge in an overwhelming choir of hails.

Kihyun stares in shock at the dozens of men awarding him the most profound reverence a mortal being could dream of before slowly turning towards Changkyun, grabbing his wrist and letting out under his breath in a whisper, “I think they believe we’re their gods.”

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't bring forks and torches for our three heroes before reading the next chapter. 
> 
> for those interested to read more about Egyptian gods and symbols of the ancient world, i have created [this guide here ](https://wrathofanubis.carrd.co/)
> 
> would you prefer our AnubisKyun and KiHorus deal with ocs in the following chapters or rather have special cameos from other idols? please participate [in this poll here! ](https://twitter.com/seoulfulnights/status/1156706536988844033)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

Being raised as a Son, Hyunwoo had to carry a heavy burden on his shoulders from the day he learned to talk. With his prestigious background and heritage, simply introducing himself to others brought a great deal of pressure he could barely lift on most days. His childhood tasted bland like pages from old books read in a room with no music, a room where others only approached him if they needed to instruct him on another family duty or requested his presence at once.

With time, he learned to blend in more, to strike conversations with people his own age who knew nothing about golf or the stock market, people who didn’t spend their time bidding for overpriced pieces of art or having tea parties for fun. And once he left for college, he discovered a whole other world, a world where he no longer was the heir of the famous Son family, he wasn’t the grandson of Son Kiwoo – one of the men who contributed the most to the Egyptian Museum’s collection of undug antiquities, nor the son of Son Hyujoo, professor at Oxford and specialized scholar of Ancient Literatures. 

No, when he attended orientation day and a confident geek approached him to ask his name and major, the only thing he said was, “Hyunwoo, I am here for Egyptology.” And a moment later when his new friend introduced himself as Kihyun and excitedly claimed they’re going to be colleagues, Hyunwoo decided that perhaps, being just Hyunwoo is enough. Of course, the impression was short-lived as he was forced to inherit his legacy much sooner than anyone could have anticipated, a glass shattering call still ringing somewhere in his head waiting to be picked up.

A call to remind him forever that first and foremost, he is a Son and then, when it was allowed, he could be Hyunwoo too. The day he attended his parents’ funeral, Hyunwoo crashed his car into a tree. Sober, more sober than many would have dared to be in his situation, he sat at the wheel and drove out of London on the ever-shrinking outskirts turned into suburbias, until at last he took a sudden turn off the road and slammed on the breaks with all his might. 

His family lawyers made sure to keep the story off the press’ radar – painting the youngest of the family as an unstable youth who drives recklessly on country roads wouldn’t do good to anyone, and not even Kihyun was aware of the mishap that took place that day. Hyunwoo refused to explain it when questioned and the lawyers didn’t push much for the truth either, deeming the responsible heir was just struck by terrible grief from his recent loss.

Yet Hyunwoo understood his instincts that day very well, he understood he needed to feel his own bones break to veil the heartache, and he also understood that a careful driver like his father could have never simply crashed into a death trap even under the influence. His verdict has been certain and outrageous, but without further proof, he could not file a report to the police. Crying that his family had been manslaughtered by one of the many two-faced associates who envied their influence and personal collection would only get the entire police station to rail in laughter. He would have lost all the respect he’s worked so hard to achieve in seconds, playing exactly by the cards those savage criminals expected him to. 

So he kept his cool instead. He finished his studies in record time graduating with the highest grades, just as his parents would have wanted him to, he returned to his grandfather’s mansion to finally take possession of his birthright assets, and he donated the rest of the exhibits more appropriate for a museum than a residence. His controversial decision sparked quite a spirited discussion with various antiquary and an even more increased number of break-ins or attempts at his life, everyone doubting both his mental faculties as well as his power to decide over such matters, yet Hyunwoo hasn’t doubted for a single second he made the right choice.

And ever since, he continued to follow the sand-covered footsteps his family lied down for him way before he was even born. However, no matter how much dust settled on his body after an entire day spent in the desert, no matter how much he avoided cities and jams and people in general, one small pebble was able to set in reverse everything and send him back to that black day.

When he wakes up in the middle of nowhere, nearly buried in the sand-swept by the occasional gust of wind, his ribs ache just as much as when his body collided with the agonizing reality that he lost his parents in a vintage Chevrolet. Hyunwoo groans at the dull soreness on his right side as he stands up and examines his surroundings, blurry vision searching for any hints to help him recollect what brought him in the land of no men.

He remembers going inside the tomb with Kihyun after discovering some ruthless people broke its seal, he remembers finding the three thieves stuffing their pockets with jewels and gold from the pharaoh’s treasury and barely avoiding an open crossfire, and then there’s only fear and pain and a serious instinct that he’s seen death in the eye. Something interfered, he is sure of that, but his brains feel like they've been hammered for hours on end the more he concentrates on the hazy memory. “Kihyun?” he calls for his friend but the desert doesn’t have a tongue to answer.

“Kihyun!” he shouts again, louder, more desperate, feet taking off on their own accord in a light sprint to cross to the other side of the dune.

Two silhouettes raise up from the ground at his third call, dusting off their attire from sand with hindered movements. None of them is his egyptologist colleague though, that much Hyunwoo can tell from a distance by looking at their frames, but he does recognize them as soon as the taller one shakes off his silver hair and looks up.

“You!” Hyunwoo shouts angrily at the thief, hand immediately reaching for the gun inside his leather vest. The grave robber doesn’t hesitate to answer in the very same manner, pulling out a pistol from the harness wrapped around his thigh. “Is this how you reward those who save your life?” Minhyuk snarls, misleading grin reminding Hyunwoo of just how cocky of a thief he’s facing. Saving his life? No, Hyunwoo could never imagine that scumbag lifting a single finger to help him when he was down, even if he couldn’t exactly recall for what reason he’d been helplessly thrown around like a ragdoll to the floor.

“What have you done to Kihyun?” he demands instead, frowning when the second thief is more preoccupied with his photographic equipment than helping out his mate.

“What have _you_ done to Changkyun?” Minhyuk pushes, tilting his gun ever so slightly but Hyunwoo can’t deduce from this distance whether the firearm is actually loaded or not – he is not curious enough to find out either. But he is curious what a man like Im Changkyun had to do with this miserable gang, why an educated guy would even consider stepping so low as to rob the graves he was supposed to protect. It has been years since he’s heard his junior’s name though, and Kihyun refused to talk about his former companion after Changkyun had been kicked out of their association and dropped out of university. 

A constant enigma on his short time on campus, Im Changkyun remained a riddle that Hyunwoo can’t begin to understand, nonetheless solve out. “I am not a filthy criminal like you, what makes you think I know anything of his whereabouts?”

The insult urges Minhyuk to take a step forward, free hand clenched in a tight fist as though he completely forgot of the deadly weapon in his other. He flinches slightly when he is close enough for Hyunwoo’s own gun to directly touch his chest, a terrible ache still bothering his heart, but definitely not his guts when he chargers up and points the weapon at Hyunwoo’s temple, ready to blow his brains out. A messy but certain death. 

“Stop it, you two!” the third man finally steps in, quite literally forcing himself between the two in order to break them apart. Hyunwoo is impressed at the photographer’s courage of coming in between two loaded guns, even more so when he could have easily slid on the other bandit’s side, finish him off, and let his corpse be the next meal for the hungry hyenas and jackals.

“When will you learn guns are no solution? Both Changkyun and Kihyun are missing and you killing each other off won’t help find them,” Hoseok reasons and after one long tense eyelock, Minhyuk and Hyunwoo put down their guns at the same time. Hoseok gives an approving nod at the sudden improvement of the situation before briefly inspecting the broken lens of his precious camera again. Hopeless, he puts it aside in his backpack to deal with later – Changkyun’s disappearance had priority.

“Maybe they are still stuck in that tomb, fighting…” his words trail off, not sure what he really wanted to say. _Who_ have they been fighting?

“Do you remember anything?” Hyunwoo asks the two. Minhyuk hesitates, cooperating with the enemy is too desperate of a move, too risky for someone with his record, and he is certain he and Hoseok would be able to find their leader alone without help from a nasty fat cat.

“Actually, I do,” Hoseok obviously didn’t agree with that and before Minhyuk could stop him, Hoseok already spills it all vehemently ignoring the death glare sent his way. “We’ve been ambushed. I don’t remember who or how but I remember running away from this…” _Words Hoseok, find words._  “This monster.”

That certainly grasps Hyunwoo and Minhyuk’s attention. Yes, now that Hoseok mentions it, they could remember battling a powerful enemy too, one whose strength appeared monstrous, otherearthly even. But monsters are only a fantastical creation, a concept symbolizing things beyond human comprehension, things that you simply refused to acknowledge for being too different. A monster could simply, and horrifyingly enough, be anything foreign. “It took you down first, even if Minhyuk jumped in your defense.” 

There is absolutely no reason for Hyunwoo to trust Hoseok’s words, yet he finds himself believing everything the quiet brunet says, even when the smug look surfaced on Minhyuk’s face pissed him off. Hoseok looks sincere through it all, putting Hyunwoo in great difficulty. His memory is still jagged and despite being able to recognize the location of King Chae's tomb not too far from here, he can't see any other people around, even his workers' tents have been swallowed as though all life perished off the earth. He is all alone in the desert without any means of returning to the city and clearly outnumbered.

The moment Hoseok decides to stop playing this humane card, it is over for Hyunwoo, and that unsettles the older man. Perhaps he put down his defenses too early. “I remember,” the sudden shudder doesn’t go unnoticed, snapping Hyunwoo back as Hoseok confesses with glassy eyes, “I remember I saw you die right in front of me." That level of vulnerability, no, when Hoseok sobs heartbroken like Minhyuk had really died before him is too real for Hyunwoo to doubt the brunet spoke sincerely with no hidden intentions. 

The silver-haired man is quick to wrap his arms around Hoseok and envelop his dear companion’s shaking frame in a soothing hug. There are some more words Hyunwoo can’t discern for sure, muffled by tears and distorted by an evident lisp and covered by Minhyuk’s shushing, and for the first time since he’s run into the bandits, Hyunwoo is the one feeling like an intruder who wasn’t supposed to witness something so intimate.

Minhyuk whispers what Hyunwoo supposes to be a reassuring pep talk for Hoseok to keep it together until they are reunited with their younger leader. There’s a silent conversation made solely out of empathetic gazes, and not even the wind dares to disturb the intense exchange. The obvious bond frankly intimidates Hyunwoo, so strange and unfamiliar for him to see between two men but he guesses he could have caught a glimpse of similar situations when he was still a student. History majors like himself liked to walk straight, but many hit a curve at a point.

Minhyuk nods at his friend’s pleading face, and taking a deep breath to calm himself, he proposes to Hyunwoo, “Let’s call a truce until we find them. You want your friend and we want Changkyun back. We have more chances if we unite.”

Reluctantly, Hyunwoo agrees. He has no ounce of trust that Minhyuk wouldn’t backstab him as soon as he turns around, but there aren’t any alternatives left to choose from. He is stranded, and the two bullets he’s got saved in his desert eagle won’t save him from dehydration and certainly won’t transport him back to civilization. As much as he dreaded being involved with criminals of their caliber, Minhyuk and Hoseok looked to be his only silver lining in this disastrous situation.

They decide to inspect the tomb first, following Hoseok’s guess that their friends might still be trapped inside. The stone door is still rolled to the side, in the same position the little band of misfits has shifted it after breaking the putrid rope seal Hyunwoo saves from the sands to analyze further at a later point. Minhyuk leads the way inside once he lights up a torch, Hyunwoo close behind him observing all his movements, and Hoseok ending the string with curious but cautious eyes examining the painted walls. Instinctively, they all remember the way inside up until the burial chamber left uncovered and Hyunwoo is first to attempt pushing off the sarcophagus’ lid and search for King Chae’s mummy. 

The others help him reveal the biggest secret of the tomb, to his striking surprise, but what he finds even more peculiar is how there’s no coffin and no mummy inside the massive funerary box. And definitely more disappointing, Kihyun wasn’t hiding in there either. “Damn, I really thought they’d be in here,” Minhyuk curses, toppling over the stone as his breathing slowly recovers with each heavy pant after the straining effort.

Hoseok and Hyunwoo share the same underlying feeling with seemingly no reasonable explanation, which strengthens Hyunwoo’s theory that their ridged memory is connected one way or another to the two rivals’ disappearance. The tomb is in ruins, that much they all acknowledge with a simple glance around – treasures are scattered all over the place spilling out of the treasury as though they’ve been swept away from their rightful position by unknown forces, walls are cracked beyond the damage done by time itself, and the roof looks about to collapse at any second over them turning the tomb into their eternal resting place as well.

“Do you know of any other chambers?” Hyunwoo questions quietly. The dead silence of the relicts left him cold and bothered, constant dread urging him to escape while he still can yet his morals detain him from ditching Kihyun – wherever he may be. 

“We…” Minhyuk frowns, kicking himself for the amnesia clouding his head, frustrated by the blockage that holds him back from retrieving his lost mate. Changkyun could be hanging by a thread at this very moment, his life could be endangered and they sure as hell knew nothing of him or whether they'll ever see him alive again. Did the tomb have more chambers besides the straight through corridor they’ve already explored? Could Changkyun be hiding in one such room?

"I think so. Somewhere…" Deciding not to waste any more precious time, Minhyuk dashes out, nausea prompting him to put as much distance between himself and that glacial coffin he desired so much earlier. How stupid of him. Hoseok is at his side in an instant but he doesn’t wait for Hyunwoo to catch up with them once he catches sight of a narrow lane. “There,” he mutters as though walking through a dream. The hole in the wall is tight enough to squeeze the breath out of him but that doesn’t deter any of them from reaching the hidden annex, only to find it empty.

“No, this…” Minhyuk frantically searches around, knocking in the huge blocks of limestone expecting some secret tunnel. Something was off about the annex, and although he had no recollection of the tomb as a whole or of what happened apart from little bits here and there, Minhyuk just _knows_ there’s something wrong with the chamber.

Hoseok maintains his confused expression, the one that incited Hyunwoo to believe he wasn’t too familiar with the Egyptian culture, yet it is not the lack of knowledge that fazes the photographer. “Guys,” Hoseok calls out, and despite his growing frustration, Minhyuk stops groping the walls to listen to what his friend had to say. “There was something here,” Hoseok says, pointing right to the middle of the floor. “A statue. One of those weird animal gods.”

It is Hyunwoo’s turn to frown now. _One of those weird animal gods_ is not quite the best hint when talking about the Egyptian pantheon, considering most of their gods had at least the head of an animal if they weren’t animals themselves. But thinking about this particular tomb’s strange anatomy, Hoseok could be inferring to two main deities of the Ancient world.

“Wait, wait. I had some photos,” the brunet suddenly remembers and starts rummaging through his rucksack until, at last, he pulls out a dimmed polaroid. The desaturation doesn’t obstruct Hyunwoo from immediately recognizing the jackal statue.

“That’s a mortuary totem of Anubis.”

Peeking over Hoseok shoulder, Minhyuk scoffs at the lost treasure that mocks their tribulation. If obsidian dogs could talk, he was sure the mutt would call them incompetent and a disgrace for their actions and stupidity. “Well, it obviously isn’t here anymore. So somebody took it,” he deduces bitterly. Not only did they lose two people without a trace, but also perhaps one of the most valuable artifacts in the entire crypt, one so unique he’s only seen one before highly secured since it once belonged to the famous King Tut. The fame and fortune a single totem could have brought them is too infuriating for his thin patience.

“Maybe it was them!” Hoseok, always the first to see the glass half-full, unlike his other two companions driven more by reason and judgment than blind optimism. Hyunwoo remains quiet, gripping the photograph in his hand, eyebrows furrowed resembling an angry owl as he tried to understand the mystery before their eyes. No other treasure appeared to be taken out of the tomb, so what makes this Anubis representation so special besides the obvious? And how on earth could a second band of thieves have managed to sneak such a considerable effigy through that narrow tunnel? 

“This is going nowhere,” Minhyuk huffs crossing his arms. “Clearly, this tomb is desolate of any sort of life, not even corpses lie around. Changkyun is not here. And neither is your friend.” Hoseok wants to object, he wants to contradict his mate and remind him this is just another one of those unfortunate situations they have to figure out together, not much different from the time Minhyuk himself fell into a trap during one of their bounty hunts and Changkyun had to come to his rescue. But Hyunwoo speaks up first, astounding the little bandits with his proposal. “Agreed. We should get some rest and return with fresh forces."

A prolonged truce was not in Minhyuk's plans, in fact, more than anything in the world Minhyuk hated being forced in a position where he required help from others. People could not be trusted, that's a lesson he felt on his skin at a young age. He's been on his own long enough to know his own strengths and weaknesses and it is only recently that he ended up running around in the company of two other men, trusting a total stranger out of the blue is definitely a no-go for a mercenary like him. Hypothetically, he could just fool them and revisit the tomb on his own at dusk to pick up his rightful share, he could pretend to accept Hyunwoo’s peace offer yet continue plotting his own schemes.

The treasury still contained enough gold to favor anyone for a filthy rich lifestyle he so desired. After sacrificing his own life for this man, at least according to Hoseok, Minhyuk regards that would be a worthy reward for himself. 

They shake on it under Hoseok’s distrustful eyes but Minhyuk's perfectly exercised mask has no crack even in front of his, perhaps, closest ally. Hyunwoo tightens his grip around Minhyuk frail hand for the briefest of moments, torch flame lighting up a dangerous fire in his eyes. A threat, Minhyuk figures, a threat that Son Hyunwoo is not one to be crossed over. _We'll see about that_.

After another quick tour of the grave - just to be sure, the newly formed trio is welcomed outside by the strangest and most evil-smelling animals Hoseok was so wary of. "Fucking camels," Minhyuk curses aggravated. Was this a blessing or just another part of the Pharaoh's curse? 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

Travelling has always been so tedious, so unnecessarily complicated that for years Kihyun limited himself to the six-hour flight between London and Cairo several times a year as part of the board committee for the International Association of Younger Egyptologists. While he stayed in London, he would teach a few seminars related to his specialty but the students were often too ignorant to acknowledge his value in the field or his important contributions to the topic of translating ancient curses. Instead, they would denigrate his authority based on his junior age – Kihyun liked to think it’s indeed just his age and not his immigration background or something petty like his average height.

His sojourn on Egyptian lands usually resumed to visiting important archaeological sites, gathering more data to advance further with his research, and letting his chest be replenished with the strange yet appreciated feeling of home. Looking now at the very same sceneries but thousands of years younger than he’s known them in his lifetime, Kihyun gets overwhelmed by the same sensation flooding his heart, a sensation of belonging. It made no sense, absolutely none whatsoever, but as he is being carried in a litter by four priests, Kihyun can no longer try to deny reality.

He has reached now Ancient Egypt.

Confusion fogged his mind when he and Changkyun left the tomb through the same gate they entered but arrived in a completely different realm –  and yet, the very same. The fog thickened vastly when no long after, dozens of bald priests kneeled before them in worship, their voices an eerie choir of hails. “I think they believe we’re their gods.” Despite never hearing the spoken language of these people, long dead in spite of its graphic version outlasting the entire civilization, Kihyun had no issue understanding their words.

“ _Hail Horus Khyun, hail his guard Anpu._ ”

The title that haunted him from the moment he entered the crypt, the name so out of place and unrelated to the one meant to be buried inside –  King Chae. And a second name, one he’s ever heard pretentions historians insist on using, the pure name of the god Anubis and not the ‘tainted’ version of the Greeks.

“Great,” Changkyun hisses from beside him but Kihyun is too scared to ask him whether he too understood these people. Given the agitated movement of the younger’s eyes as though he was trying to swallow all that stood in front of him and ingrain it forever in memory, Kihyun assumed he did. 

However, if they could understand the priests bearing offerings, what is to say the welcome wagon wouldn’t be just as capable to decipher their discussion, even hushed? That meant every single word uttered in the presence of an ancient might put them at risk as high as that of a woman from the Middle Ages being significantly more intelligent than the men of the village and thus feared to be a witch.

Kihyun is not sure about Changkyun, but he does not want to end up staked and burned – especially when as an expert in curses, he knows exactly how creative the Egyptians were with their torturing devices. If these men believe he was their resurrected pharaoh, then the safest would be to just follow their made-up story.

“Raise up,” he commands, voice barely held together under the burden of his nerves. He can see from the corner of his eyes Changkyun giving him an incredulous look, but he ignores it for now hoping his old rival will follow through and play along. Hesitant, his new subjects listen not wishing to anger their master, but one stood forth defiant, his high status revealed by a sort of white wimple similar to the _Nemes headdress_ so many pharaohs wore. If he was the one in charge of this religious cluster, Kihyun would guess he must be the High Priest of Amun, considering their proximity to Thebes. 

“My Lord, let us take you back on your throne and rejoice Osiris' wishes of blessing us with your return,” the man addresses Kihyun with the utmost respect, but storms of doubt swarm in his eyes, his gaze questioning the legitimacy of Kihyun being a genuine embodiment of the falcon deity. Their pharaohs were undeniably descendants of gods, just as certain as the fact that _he who is like an Ibis_ has shown himself to their forefathers and gave them mathematics, astrology, medicine and the alphabet in all its complexity. But rarely did the gods themselves decide to be reborn as a _Lord of the two Ladies._

Someone like King Khyun to have been granted not only immortality but the absolute power of Horus, someone like the pharaoh who single-handedly destroyed his kingdom and perhaps the entire dynasty with cowardy decisions by surrendering the Delta to the _Rulers of foreign lands_ to be brought back by a strange man claiming to be Anpu. For a man of Amun like Sonkheyu who’s watched three pharaohs rise and fall of the golden throne in his lifetime, more than any of his masters had before him, the revival of the dead is nothing but an omen of the end. However, he is in no position to articulate his opinion, not until discussing further with the vizier and for that, he must bring these men to the royal palace.

Changkyun remains silent, still, knowing better than to say something in front of all those worshippers of Anubis who watch them glimmered by their presence. Some look too stunned to move at all, their legs shaking at first when Kihyun ordered them to stand up before being petrified by terror as their High Priest addresses the supposed revived pharaoh. Some are curious instead, bewildered and astonished by the bizarre attire the gods were clad in –  unusual kilts that were split in two parts for each leg, no makeup to protect their eyes from the wrath of Ra or infections, complicated belts and sheaths covering their body yet none made out of linen or fur, not to mention the hair is evidently not shaved off as tradition would demand.

Changkyun can understand their not so discreet staring or hushes full of questions, to these people he and Kihyun are no less inoffensive than aliens landed on the rooftop of Buckingham Palace. He too would be scared shitless in their place, but he’s not a priest in Ancient Egypt, and therefore he is aware that the ones who are really in danger are him and Kihyun. Especially in the proximity of that sly fox bowing to Kihyun and pledging he’ll bring him back to the throne. 

“Do you not remember me, my lord?” the high priest asks insidious, faking his disappointment of not being recognized by the omniscient god Horus, despite serving the royal family for more than a decade and performing thousands of rituals to appease Amun and all his godly children. Changkyun decides right then this man is nothing but trouble and that their safety will be invariably jeopardized by his sharp tongue and narrowed eyes as long as they are there.

The other priests rumble behind their leader whose words stirred suspicion and distrust in their hearts, paranoia easily instilled in their herd mentality in spite of their educated spirits. Horus almighty would know the name of his humble servant, of the man who calls upon his blessings and asks for his guidance at every turn of Ra’s solar barge. But if those odd men were not gods as they first assumed, who could they be? Had they come from far away lands to desecrate the real King Khyun’s grave? Had the Hyksos reached this far up along the Nile that their beloved Thebes was in danger? 

Kihyun heaves a sigh, the excruciating sun burning his cheeks and the scowling faces leaving him quite intimidated after the unbelievable and overwhelming journey he’s unwillingly set on. In the past twenty-four hours alone, Changkyun stumbled again into his life the moment Kihyun was meant to rest on laurels and finally redeem himself in the world of Egyptology with Hyunwoo’s discovery. And just like every time the little brat showed up uninvited to destroy Kihyun’s plans, shaking up his order and sanity, the world around them crumbled to ruins.

First, he’s been preyed upon by a mad ancient deity with severe anger issues, gone through some spooky ritual performed by another deranged deity, and at last, thrown in a whirlwind of times with no escape route. Now he is surrounded by dozens of men, some of them most likely carrying weapons, and interrogated by one of the most influential people of the ancient world. Looking at the high priest, Kihyun gets hit by sudden nausea and a bad feeling settles in his gut, as though they’ve met previously in another life. And all of a sudden, the name strikes him.

“You are Sonkheyu, High Priest of Amun, Lord of the blooming Karnak temple whose expansion is a joy to the heavens.”

The literal gasp that escapes Sonkheyu must be one of the most satisfying things Kihyun has ever experienced in a long while, perhaps even more than shutting off the dean earlier that month when Kihyun’s teaching skills have been questioned. “A-ah, yes,” Sonkheyu stutters, embarrassed by his foolish behavior and the humiliation he has to endure in front of his direct subordinates. Still, answering a trick question correctly could be blamed on several things besides the initial association with the pharaonic god himself – black magic, for instance, might make his _Ba_ speak against his own wishes and reveal the right answer.

Changkyun stares amazed, as do the other Egyptian priests ready to pledge once more loyalty in front of their true pharaoh. Lying and pretending to be something he is not have never been appreciated by Kihyun, but he is challenged now to overcome his morals in order to survive the night  – and by the same token, make sure he is not the one responsible for Im Changkyun’s death. Sonkheyu orders a handful of his men to sneak into the very tomb the godly figures have just escaped, and fetch from the treasury two litters. After all, they couldn’t let Horus and Anubis walk all the way to Thebes.

For someone who can’t ride a bike, doesn’t have a driving license, has never approached horses and always gets sick when his feet are not on the ground, Kihyun discovers being carried by four of (his?) subjects in a golden litter is an actually pleasing means of transportation. Changkyun relishes in the same treatment as Anubis is no less of a god than Horus and the Egyptians held dear their tomb guardian who guided them in the afterlife.

Held up in the air and quite at a distance from one another, they can’t have even a coded conversation, but Kihyun discovers, to his surprise, that he and Changkyun can still understand each other with one look across the yard. They need to talk. But they also require the utmost secrecy for such a discussion, and until they can afford it, they must play along and be a team, no matter what a blow this is to their pride. They accompany Ra in three of his solar journeys before reaching the capital, each night stopping by in a builder village for a meager feast consecrated to the return of the king. 

Kihyun and Changkyun are doted on with the full royal treatment, citizen after citizen of Upper Egypt bowing before them with tributes and celebrating the wonder. Plates with bread, beer, even a rare roasted goose bred for the richest men are brought one by one onto the table, replenished as many times as they wanted and then at last replaced with plums and figs for dessert. To see the drink of the pubs served in a bowl as soup and tasting nothing alike to the one he’s used to, Kihyun has a hard time controlling his expressions and earns a few judgemental scoffs from his partner across the table.

“It’s more tasty than I could have imagined,” Changkyun admits while munching on a drumstick vigorously, making Kihyun wonder how long had it been since the thief had any warm dinner. “Even if you are a dog, don’t be a savage. Chew with your mouth closed,” Kihyun retorts with a roll of eyes, sipping some more from the barely alcoholic soup and displaying the elegance one would expect from a king – or a snob, as Changkyun has the courtesy of mumbling under his breath.

Luckily the men guarding their improvised accommodation don’t appear to be eavesdropping on their small talk, but Kihyun holds himself back from asking the other man what they are going to do and how they will find a way to go back home. He knows better than to underestimate Sonkheyu’s vulture gaze.

Despite the hearty supper, the night is nothing but hostile towards Kihyun. Too warm, too humid and smothering as though Nut, goddess of the sky, was furious at his imposture and wanted to exterminate his being, much like Horus has tried just days prior. After all the sacrifices the goddess had to undertake in order to be with her lover Geb, the earth, while Ra and all the other gods at that time swore to keep them separated for eternity, it must be beyond insulting for her to have some mortal like Kihyun call himself a god so openly to the ancients.

Moreover, he is not pretending to be some minor god whose cult was already going extinct, no, he was impersonating _Horus_ , perhaps the greatest god of the pantheon, king over all of creation and Nut’s grandchild. Granny Nut definitely wouldn’t like Kihyun – that is, if she existed at all. But can Kihyun doubt gods existence now after all that he’s seen? After all that he’s fought? And what did Anubis even mean when he said, ‘ _You will do great?’_ Great at what, deceiving people that he’s something else entirely? 

With jackals howling in the background, Kihyun spends his time recollecting everything that happened in the tomb, from him awakening the avenger sentinel to feeling invisible bandages trampling him in a nerveless stance. That night, something took over him, Kihyun is certain, something that guided him inside the treasury to fetch the golden dagger which ended Horus and later pushed Changkyun to hide in the sarcophagus, even if Anubis still managed to discover their improvised shelter.

Yet perchance the most mystifying part of the night was encountering the lord of the dead performing the _opening of the mouth_ ceremony while they were still very much alive. That in itself changed something within Kihyun, but no matter how many theories he came up with to justify the transition that took place, at the end all he has left are simple conspiracies. And he can’t even debate their validity with Changkyun given their current imprisonment. He ponders over the perspectives of waking up the tomb thief sleeping by his side in their last night as nomads and running away together from the cult of priests, away from Sonkheyu’s vindictive presence.  

But he doesn’t. And the next morning their journey through the desert comes to an end once Kihyun recognizes the city of Thebes even before the high priest announces their arrival, glorious columns rising up ten feet into the sky to greet Horus behind white walls painted with godly figures surrounding the invincible creator Amun.

Unlike the Thebes he has visited so many times heaped with statues of Ramses the Great massive enough to match the pharaoh’s impressive ego, the halidom of Luxor ascending in front of his eyes lacked many of its fundamental monuments, built long after the dawn of the 13th dynasty. However, it didn’t downgrade Kihyun’s astonishment one bit as he is being carried through on his golden litter towards the royal palace.

“My Lord, your home is as you left it. Prince Honamun will be delighted to see your highness again,” Sonkheyu says with the practiced diplomacy of a good politician and Kihyun can instantly guess the high priest has the power to pull many strings behind the king’s back. Maybe even a fatal one that got the original Khyun in the very tomb Kihyun escaped from. 

More important right now though, there it was again. The third name inscribed in a cartouche on the dusty walls and pillars of King Chae’s grave, the third name in a string that confused the egyptologist and made him doubt the depth of his knowledge. Admittedly, Kihyun spent too little time studying these hieroglyphs to properly grasp the stories they portrayed, read fragments too short to correlate them with facts regarding the supposed time frame of King Chae’s reign. Still, the tomb was unique in itself, talking about three remarkable pharaohs at the same time – King Chae, Horus Khyun, and now that he heard the correct title, _Prince_ Honamun.

According to the ancient customs, when one is buried their resting place is meant to be a mirror of what they wish to take in the afterlife. Thus pages from the book of the dead painted on the walls in bright colors usually showed landscapes from the Fields of Reeds where the pharaoh’s subjects farm and fish for him to be wealthy, scenes displaying his greatest achievements in battle and wars, his legacy of temples and monuments, portraits of the gods granting the pharaoh immortality and, along with it, entrance in paradise. Few mortals were mentioned along if the grave belonged to a woman, since she would likely want to meet her children and family at the end of the Nile, but almost none if it was built for a man, except perhaps his first wife if they had a fruitful marriage. 

As with any rule, there are exceptions and Kihyun’s favorite is one of the most fascinating queens to have worn the royal vulture crown. Nefertari, Queen of Ramses the Great, went so far as to make sure her husband was not even once depicted throughout her tremendous grave, despite him being one of the most influential and powerful pharaohs to have ever lead Egypt with a reign of over sixty years. Kihyun can’t blame her at all, if he had to live that long with a man as narcissistic as Ramses who liked to build monuments in his image at every corner, he too would make sure their paths won’t cross again in the following life.

This is a possibility he blindly looked over at the beginning, Kihyun realizes. Instead of considering the three names to belong to one strange pharaoh, he should have realized there are in fact three people involved. Horus Khyun, the deceased pharaoh he is meant to represent now in front of an entire empire, Prince Honamun, the heir who took over after his father’s death, and King Chae – still an enigmatic figure.

Kihyun glances over at Changkyun’s bored expression when the priests kneel in front of the palace entrance in order for the two gods to get out of their golden litters. There are so many questions flying through his mind, frustrating him terribly with their lack of answers, yet Im Changkyun looked calm and collected as always, the true image of a cold-blooded thief. Have the years changed Changkyun’s love for the past so much that he isn’t overwhelmed by simply witnessing history before it became ruins and excavation sites? The thought saddens Kihyun but he can’t allow himself to be consumed by feelings, not when there’s so much at risk. And besides, he still has not forgiven all that was said and done.

Im Changkyun is still, after all, the man who decimated his career and shattered his dreams. Fate had a crooked sense of humor, Kihyun admits with a sigh. His former rival has become the only man he can trust and one mistake on Changkyun’s part could also lead to his own demise. Death might come a lot sooner, Kihyun realizes when heavy built guards surround them with sharp spears tightly gripped in their hands. The particular choice of arms does not help the nerve-wracking situation in the least. 

“I have already sent a pigeon to Lord Honamun to announce your arrival ereyesterday, your majesty. He’ll be waiting for you in the throne room, your loyal guards will escort you there,” Sonkheyu bows, explaining the situation but the verminous look glinting in his eyes leads Changkyun to believe the high priest is not as saintly as he’d like them to think. They follow him nonetheless, guards on each side blocking most of their view. Kihyun vaguely remembers walking along these ruins, when the blue night sky painted on the ceiling was long faded and the carved gods had no color in their cheeks. He’d like to just stop and sit on the stairs of a smaller temple to admire the artistry of the place, but that would surely arouse suspicions, especially those of the high priest, and that is something he can’t afford as long as he likes having all his limbs attached to his body.

An Egyptian pharaoh, the embodiment of _Horus_ himself should not be this fascinated by a culture he allegedly created and being discovered as a humbug would be considered the highest blasphemy, thus deserving the most heinous punishment. Kihyun doesn’t even want to attempt listing all of the things they could do to him and Changkyun. 

The throne room is unlike anything historians have imagined, yet Kihyun finds familiarity in his image being mirrored by the gliding marbled floor or the paintings of Amun as a pharaoh gracing the chamber’s white granite walls. There’s a statue of Horus on each side of the golden throne, the falcon god troubling him in such an obvious way that Changkyun subtly nudges him with his elbow to keep it together. Difficult task when a similar statue has killed not one but three people in front of his eyes. Turquoise pillars hold the palace upright, their reigning beauty leaving Kihyun breathless as his eyes raise up to their golden capitals. Richness exudes out of every stone placed carefully in the perfect position to create a wonder illuminated in such a gentle manner, a more sensitive man would be brought to tears.

Although they are protected indoors by the harsh rays of the Egyptian sun, there’s a vault in the center of the ceiling that Kihyun has no doubt aligns perfectly with Ra’s position at midday and that of the moon when it reaches her peak. It’s marvelous, truly marvelous and unlike anything Kihyun has seen in all his years – and yet, stepping closer to the three people awaiting him feels like returning back in a dream he left behind the previous night. 

Flames of a smoldering ember are aligned on the path Sonkheyu follows in front of them, at the end of which rest three golden chairs raised up by a couple of stairs where the high priest kneels. The one in the middle is identical to the throne Kihyun’s noticed in the tomb’s treasury, a massive piece of gold worked up to the smallest details, two lion heads adorning the handlers and precious rubies and turquoise stone creating emblematic pharaonic panels. “My King.” The man on top of it is, of course, the prince himself, bearing the crook and flail passed down to him by his father as he meets his guests – or hostages.

The first thing Kihyun notices upon a closer look is the lack of a crown, not even a more casual headdress. Prince Honamun welcomes them bare of such symbols of power and clad in a simple linen gown, held together by a wealthy belt at the middle and matched with a _menat_ necklace typical for prosperous men. His hair looked luscious, clear proof of him wearing an extravagant wig made out of genuine human hair,  locks braided in a complicated style and thrown to the side, united by a golden clip and revealing half of his shaven head. The prince presented an unimpressed look, eyes half-closed and lined with heavy kohl much like the arch of his eyebrow. For a moment, Kihyun fears Honamun might actually fall asleep. 

__

“Father,” Honamun speaks up, his arms crossed in an X over his chest to prove that despite his youthful look, he is the one in charge of the land. “The gods blessed us with your return,” the cheerful words are not accompanied by a joyful tone and come rather bored out of the prince’s mouth like he’s got a million places he’d rather be at rather than facing his resurrected father. Kihyun is not fooled by the foul impression.

He can notice the electricity running behind those black orbs, the sharp mind hidden by pretty looks and he knows without question that Honamun is disbelieving Sonkheyu’s story and questioning his cover. A smart thing to do after all, when a stranger who looks nothing alike your late parent shows up at their grave and claims they’re not only a reincarnation, but one of the most powerful gods as well.

“Mysterious are Osiris’ ways, son,” he tries to reply in a similar manner but the phrase slips on his tongue wrenched and awkward, making Changkyun visibly cringe beside him. Were they not in such a delicate situation, Kihyun would turn around and give the dark-haired man a piece of his mind about how they can switch places if Changkyun thinks he’d do so much better than him as Horus. 

“My king,” Sonkheyu weights in timidly, unlike the prideful mask he’s shown Kihyun so far. “ _The Foremost of the Divine Booth_ came personally to guide the pharaoh back to our realm,” he says motioning towards an unsuspecting Changkyun standing in front of the most powerful man in the entire Egypt with his hands tucked in his pockets, baffling the entire court with his nonchalance. The comment stirs a wave of discontentment across the throne room, prince Honamun settling back in his armchair, shoulders stiff and lips drawn into a thin line – however hard that is considering his plump, reddened mouth. 

“Is that so,” Honamun mumbles, sizing the two strangers from head to toes and letting the slightest scowl surface on his graceful features. There are two ladies to his left and to his right sitting on smaller matching armchairs, both looking just as nervous as Kihyun felt in his twisted guts. Yet neither speak a word, their heads held high with dignity and their outstanding makeup emphasizing their strong features, intense eyes rimmed with black kohl, cheeks flushed with red powder and lips tainted with the color of blood. Judging by the vulture crown on the older woman’s head, Kihyun assumes she must be the queen regent, Honamun’s mother and royal wife of the deceased Khyun. The other woman is much younger, still just a teenager by her chubby cheeks and frail figure, yet she bears her Uraeus tiara with inherited refinement.

In spite of the kingdom collapsing to shambles, the royal trio seemingly betokens the faultless principles of Ma’at, reflected in their outer beauty. There’s still much Kihyun knows nothing about though, many things that history has hidden from him and have yet to be discovered, and prince Honamun’s genuine character is just one of them. Could this prince be a just king to his people? Could he trust this man in any shape or form, or is he surrounded in the end by venomous cobras? Lanky and sickly looking, frail and too green behind the ears, Kihyun doubts that Honamun is the infamous King Chae, the pharaoh whose tomb rendered him as the greatest of his times.

“You challenge me, little prince?” The threat slips out of his mouth before Kihyun can properly register the words glossing over in a foreign tongue he’s learned overnight, cocky and fired by newfound courage deep in his core. The guards subtly reach out for their swords, waiting for an order, and the servants holding up oversized fans made of ostrich feathers halt their movement behind the king. Time candidly suspends itself across the entire court, waiting for the prince’s crucial reply. They have skipped formalities altogether at this point and the tense atmosphere further emphasizes the magnitude of Honamun’s answer.

It is not his words that Kihyun challenges, but his right to the throne.

“How could I challenge a god,” Honamun answers at last, shoulders sinking in defeat. A soft sigh escapes the queen’s lips, relief obvious in her newly relaxed stance and the servants take it as a hint to carry on with their task. The high priest, however, looks shocked as if Honamun ordered his men to throw him into the cold Nile as a sacrifice for the goddess Taweret in exchange for a fertile year. Kihyun’s fear of snakes lurking around him grows stronger, yet he can’t argue against his lucid observation – as high priest, Sonkheyu is only looking out for his country not to fall in the hands of a despot.

“Two gods,” Honamun corrects himself, looking at the one he takes for Anubis. For the first time since they’ve entered the throne room, Kihyun allows himself to turn to Changkyun, to take in his cold allure and emotionless figure worthy of the Lord of the Dead. With his striking black hair against pale skin, it’s no wonder the ancients have immediately linked him with the jackal deity, but what made them associate him with Horus? “You always did threaten Horus to eat his guts and get his powers once your _Ba_ sets off for its eternal journey.” Perhaps the Egyptian sun was getting to Kihyun’s head but was prince Honamun cracking a joke?

“And that’s exactly what I did,” Kihyun agrees scratching the back of his nape lightly, a nervous tick he hoped to have gotten rid of resurfacing at the worst of times. Changkyun recognizes it almost fondly, a dejavu from a previous life he has long left behind and so, he instinctively smashes any sentimental memory to the very back of his mind inside a locked closet where it belongs, hoping Ammit or whoever finds it and devours it out of existence. When Honamun sets upright from his throne, he walks towards them with calculated steps, equally spread one from another, arms resting across his chest in such a natural manner Kihyun guesses he even sleeps holding the royal scepters.

He is much taller than Kihyun expected him to be, that much becomes painstakingly clear, and when they are at last face to face, the prince towers over him with his majestic presence. They lock eyes for a long moment, obsidian clashing against dark pits of coal-burning with reserved resentment. It becomes evident to Kihyun, they both know he is not the one meant to touch these symbols, he was not born to lead a kingdom, but when Honamun passes him the crook and flail, he accepts them without exchanging another word.

Heavier than he initially deemed them, the newly appointed pharaoh almost drops the bronze staff over his feet when a man clad in armor suddenly bursts into the open room and pounces on him like a big feline on the hunt. The royal guards take a few steps back to offer their commander some much-needed space, although they have not budged an inch when Honamun approached Kihyun, making him wonder where do the army’s loyalties truly lie.

“Father!” the man cries out ecstatic, holding onto Kihyun’s foreign shirt firmly and hugging him so tightly the egyptologist feels his ribcage crashing under the strength of those firm muscles. Unlike the other royals, the younger prince carries himself in simple clothing, light and adjustable for a battle, chest bare aside from the menat necklace that matches his brother’s. Hair is already growing on top of his bald head, letting Kihyun know the young man has been too preoccupied with more urgent issues than personal hygiene – that in itself is quite a statement, considering how much value Egyptians allocated to being pristine. Once he feels tears leave a damp spot on his shoulder, Kihyun embraces the general right back, gathering him in his weak but comforting arms just about laughing from the sheer joy bubbling up in his chest.

“Juhani, my son,” he whispers the name with so much affection for a second he forgets the boy is not actually his child. 

When Juhani looks at him, smile so big two crescent moons dip into his cheeks contrasting the emotional tempest in his soul, Kihyun forgets for a second this is not his world. For a second, he forgets he is in the presence of complete strangers and not family, that this is not where he belongs and that he should be already looking for a way to return. A gentle hand drops on his shoulder and a sweet floral fragrance floods his nostrils before the queen appears by his side, a gentle smile much like her son’s welcoming the pharaoh back to the realm of the living, “Welcome back, my love.”

At last, Sonkheyu stands up, defeated by how easily his prince gave the throne away to a phantom, and announces for all of Egypt to hear, “All raise for Horus Khyun!”

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

From his golden palace, nothing ever escaped Horus’ godly vision, no wheat fell reaped to the aurelian grounds, no wind blew in the iron-bound desert, no secret was whispered under the privacy of the night. His eye glances at the past, it can peek at the ever-changing future, it all but absorbs the infinity of atemporality only gods have the capacity of ascending. And still, his almighty eye is completely blind to Anubis’ psychotic intentions.

“I can’t believe you make me share my powers with a mortal,” the falcon god mumbles tiredly, head looping to the side against the back of his throne, his shape trembling slightly at the cold seeping through the window. That cursed dagger has seriously taken a toll on his divine being, ripping off more energy than he assumed an enchanted weapon created by man could, leaving him vulnerable and weak in front of darkness.

Perhaps he allowed Thoth too much leverage, too much authority over what celestial knowledge he could and could not share with the humankind, or maybe he should aim his wrath towards the embalmer who got him stabbed in the first place.

Anubis shows no worry to his king’s predilection though, more preoccupied with the threatening clouds looming at the horizon above the Nile, an augur of the big storm coming their way from the underworld. His father is bracing his forces for another war. Apophis is getting stronger as well, the presence of the evil snake slithering across the Fields of Reed in spite of the precautions he’s taken, or maybe Anubis’ interference in the natural course of time has rippled a tide no dam can hold back. Thoth has warned him about this butterfly effect and the unwanted consequences it could trigger in history.

“Ra believes in them,” he explains his reasoning with confidence, the only thing he has left. The gates of the underworld are already cracking under the pressure of monsters and demons led by Seth, and Osiris has been lying in his coffin unturned for a few eternal weeks with Isis mourning by his side – the ruins of the Middle Kingdom crumbling over his black tomb. Horus laughs bitterly, voice hoarse and bleak, bloodshot eyes after insomniac nights with dark circles to match the kohl around his blue irises briefing Anubis of the damage done to Aaru. Heaven cannot prevail without its king.

“Ra is not the hero he once was,” Horus spits out sacrilegiously, anger diminished by his tiredness. Anubis wishes to reprehend the offensive words, to remind Horus of the power his great-great-grandfather still upholds, but when the moon deceives their eyes with its pale light, he has to bite on his tongue. “He’s an old man, a senile lunatic who went into hiding and let a whack job like Khonsu rule the skies in his place,” Horus continues affronted, downright insulted, blue orbs glaring at the night azure mocking his shortcomings.

When he looks at Anubis, his gaze is merciless and full of unleashed rage he stores in his heart for the day he’ll have to fight Seth again. In nights like this when he hinges on a crackling fire to warm himself up, Horus notices the striking resemblance between Anubis and his father even more and the desire to attack is hardly restrained. “You sent two mortals back in our glory days, you opened their mouths to speak our tongue, and fed them from your own life source, as well as my own. Why are you so convinced they are the ones to defeat the devil and restore Ra’s primordial order?” 

As the blackness is getting thicker and the flames lose their might, Anubis wraps his leopard pelt closer to his body. The fur is not ignored by Horus, it’s smutty flecks reminding him of a story, of bygone times when Seth disguised himself in a wild cat to destroy Osiris’ embalmed corpse before Isis could complete her healing rituals. Anubis, devoted guard and ally, has protected his father then, subduing the god of chaos and branding his sandy fur with a hot iron rod that gifted the leopard its dark spots. Ever since, the jackal has been named protector of tombs and wore the flayed animal as a trophy – and even more so as a warning of his wrath for thieves and evildoers who dare desecrate tombs.

“Seth fears them,” he tells Horus, voice just above a whisper, “Whoever Seth sees as an enemy shall be our ally.” The pharaoh, pale and drowsy with a fading golden glow, gives the other god a skeptic brow raise and a scoff, unsure of the verity of those words. His eyes drift off to the _was_ scepter Anubis grips firmly in his left hand, to the top adorned with the head of his nemesis. “So quick to betray your own father. Why?”

Throwing another log into the melting fire to keep the pharaoh warm tonight, Anubis prepares himself to return to his necromancing duties. The dead are waiting, but so is Horus and his thinning patience. Testing the falcon’s self-control never led to favorable outcomes, but Anubis is reluctant to reveal his grand schemes in the war that has yet to be declared, even in front of his king. Still.

“My loyalties lie with Osiris.” That much Horus expected, and the simplicity of the answer is not in the least satisfying to his inquisitiveness but before he can shout his indignance, Anubis confesses, eyes soft and pleading. “And with you. So trust me on this one.”

The echo of doors slamming rumbles throughout the throne chamber, floor trembling beneath Horus’ feet and snapping his dropped jaw shut. “You sly dog,” he hisses with no vile feelings in his heart for once, the shake of his crowned head eliciting thunder in the skies. Clouds are closing in, almost hovering above the vault of the palace’s ceiling and pestering the solar deity suffering from the lack of light. “He might be onto something though,” loathing drips in his voice as the realization pushes him to step on his pride anew. “Those two...I have to talk with Mother.”

 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

Many people are scared of storms, the roaring of thunder sending chills down their spine and the sight of lightning splitting the sky in two realms unsettling to the core, but for Changkyun they have always been an oasis of peace. When the world looks about to end, Changkyun feels alive and his buzzing mind at ease. He lets it rest on one of the rounded cushions the servants offered him after supper, back enjoying the hard yet comfortable surface of his new bed, curved, forged in bronze and bedecked with a mattress fluffed by goose feathers.

With his eyes closed, Changkyun loses himself in the whipping sound of rain splashing the balcony, sighing complacent at the battle transpiring up in the clouds – now that he knows of their existence, the raider can’t help but wonder whether a duel between actual deities started this storm or he could just blame it on the flooding season. He pushes the thought far away, too tired of all the calculations, drafting possibilities and considering worst-case scenarios that he’s done even before stumbling into the sealed tomb of King Chae. 

Just a bit of imagination and he could almost forget he is not in some luxurious hotel but a pharaoh’s home, _Kihyun’s_ new home. Or perhaps it would be more safe for both of them to refrain themselves from using their real names, yet, calling his rival _King Khyun_ made Changkyun clench his fist in anger and punch the second pillow he’s been hugging until now. Fighting demonic statues, running into ancient gods, time traveling to the world of the pharaohs were not variables he’s foreseen in any of those tediously detailed schemes of his.

How could he and where have they lead him in the end? Being one of Kihyun’s _subjects_ , although an honorary one since he’s been given the title of a god. Feeling a massive incoming headache, the brunet attempts to empty his head of all the events behind him. There will come a time when he’ll be able to look at them with more clarity and see the pattern building up, but for now, there’s only one thing left to do: survive. 

As long as the ancients see him as Anubis disembarked from his heavenly duties to guide a reincarnated Horus back to his due throne, the common folk would continue to worship the ground he walks on, but what about the rest? What about the military and the palace’s guards, who could burst into his bedroom any minute now and thrust a spear through his heart much like the real Horus has done with Minhyuk. What about that high priest, thirsty for power and eager to get the throne for himself, and all the influence he has over the court’s noblemen.

And there is still a vizier he has yet to meet in the morning, not to mention the two princes – one so keen on giving up the crook and flail, one overly emotional to be reunited with a dead parent – or the queen and her daughter who accepted pharaoh Khyun’s return too easily. Politics are a filthy game Changkyun hated since he’s discovered their real value, since he understood every solid foundation requires even more dirt beneath it, but he acknowledges at the same time there’s no choice to be made when his life relies on understanding the delicate web tangled all over the royal house. 

“So you are the new _Master of secrets_ .” Changkyun startles hearing that joker’s voice inside his chamber and reaches out for his gun holster as per habit, forgetting for a moment he’s put away his modern clothes in exchange for a linen kilt like the ones worn by priests. The intruder chuckles, greatly amused, green face glowing under the flickering light of the blizzard and smirk mocking the mortal’s futile reactions.

“Your weapons have not helped you against Horus, boy. What makes you think they’d stand a chance against an illusion like me?” The one speaking is certainly a god, Changkyun picks up at least as much from the white royal garment, the fake beard meant for a pharaoh, and the sidelock style also preferred by prince Honamun. And if those hints weren’t obvious enough, the green-faced man bears not only the crook and flail, but also the scepter of _was_ , and on top of his head rested a white lunar disk, similar yet opposite with Horus’ fiery one. 

“Khonsu, the moon god,” Changkyun concludes flabbergasted, eliciting another laugh from the trickster figure. He shouldn’t be that surprised after fighting Horus and having a strange encounter with Anubis, and especially so since Khonsu’s cult has been mostly spread on Theban earth. If this is what his new life will resume at, Changkyun supposes he should outline a meeting agenda for casual chats with Theban deities instead of the usual five o’clock tea.

“Yes, it is _I_ , the _Greatest God of the Great Gods_ ,” Khonsu introduces himself with a sarcastic bow as though he is not one of the oldest, a direct descendant from creation itself. The storm persists in the background, unbothered by the god’s presence but Changkyun is more than troubled looking into those lined black orbs sparkling with mischief. The first time he’s met a god, two of his friends died. The second time, he woke up four thousand years back in the past. Whatever it was Khonsu wanted, it certainly could be nothing good. “So how do you like it here so far? Personally, I prefer the beer imported from Abydos. If you get the chance, do visit my nephew’s great temple there.”

The naturalness with which Khonsu paraded around the chamber, inspecting its furniture and regarding the small shrine on the eastern wall with annoyance, all the while spouting some speech taken out of a travel guide, deeply perplexes a sleepy Changkyun, who rubs at his eyes in hopes of shooing the hallucination away. Khonsu is stubborn though, adamant from leaving his comfortable chair and warm place, and even turns around to offer the brunet a creepy grin like their discussion was just another common occurrence.

“Why are you here?” Changkyun asks grim, wondering what objects could turn useful in the middle of a fight. The snug duvet thrown on the floor might make a lesser man trip, the citrine vase resting on top of his wooden desk by the candles could be thrown at an average person and knock them out, but if Changkyun learned something from his confrontation with Horus it’s that normal objects don’t work against gods. He needs magic. “Ah, I see now why Anpu picked you,” Khonsu chuckles, eyeing the other up and down like the weird uncle who meets his niece’s partner for the first time. It made Changkyun’s hair raise up on the back of his nape. “You two got the same nose!”

“Excuse me?” Changkyun twitches at the ghastly insult – or compliment? What the hell was that supposed to mean! But Khonsu just turns his pale face towards the fire, the black of his eyes swallowing the light with greed and his outstretched hands stealing the heat until Changkyun can see his breath coming out in small blurry puffs. “Did you not pray to me to guide you through your journey?” the lunar deity chides, tone suddenly dark and the trampling of the rain ceases with it. Frost builds up around Changkyun’s blood vessels and the more he looks in those empty abysses of dusk, the harder it is for him to breathe as though Khonsu sought to vacuum all the warmth in the world like a black hole. Empty and greedy, ruled by chaos.

“You’re playing a dangerous gamble, human. The gods might take me for a fool, but I don’t play games.” Briefly, Changkyun wonders whether there is actual ice spreading across the Egyptian marbled floor or just his vision turning white, blinded by the lunar deity. “I will let you go off this time without paying your part of the debt. But remember, boy, you owe me for guiding you to that tomb.” The menacing words are completed with another ghoulish smile and were Changkyun not frozen, he’d run far far away, opposite direction from Abydos just to be sure. 

Khonsu stands up at last, smiling at the expanse of dark blues spread across his sky, and stretches his arms ready to return to his waking place and illuminate the night for travelers. Not before one more unrequited tourist tip though. “If you want to make it to Abydos for something else besides a burial,” the god chirps up and Changkyun can tell he’s still got that blood-curling grin glued to his face even if he can only see Khonsu’s stiff back. “You might want to save your friend from getting mauled and eaten up before dawn.”

And just like he appeared out of thin air, the moon god disappears without a trace as if he was never there. And maybe he wasn’t, maybe it had all been a trick played on him by his exhausted mind, but as the fire crackles back to life in the pit, Changkyun can’t get rid of the ugly inkling making his palms itchy. There’s little left to interpretation in that ominous phrase, so without thinking twice, Changkyun grabs the only thing he deems a suitable weapon and leaves. 

The pharaoh’s room is not too far from his own, since king Khyun asked for Changkyun to be given a quarter in the same wing together with the rest of the royal dormitories due to his godly status, but panic still pushes Changkyun into the fastest sprint his legs could suffer. Despite the late hour, there are no guards patrolling around the otherwise vacant halls, and when he finds the flames lined up along the corridor are all burned out, Changkyun knows for sure something is off. His eyes are covered by a veil of darkness and he is forced to fumble around to find the door, guiding himself after the translucent light Khonsu had the mercy to gift him.

A mannered man would knock first before entering a chamber that is not his own, a mannered man wouldn’t break the door down with the iron rod he’s seized from the furnace, nor would he burst into the king’s bedroom like the world was on fire. Thankfully, Changkyun has never been a mannered man, otherwise, the gruesome leopard growling right above Kihyun’s sleeping face might have finished the pharaoh off before he even gave his first decree.  

“Fuck off,” he hisses at the sliced pupils glowing at him maliciously from where a clawed paw rests heavy on Kihyun’s heart and in spite of knowing the dangers of attacking a wild animal, Changkyun snaps towards the feline and thrusts his improvised sword forward. The leopard, albeit enchanted and clearly more intelligent, is still just an animal and as any threatened beast, it strikes right back with a hoarse roar, claws gripping flesh and pulling it apart before Changkyun can drive the iron rod through the feline’s chest.

There’s a loud thud when the leopard falls dead to the ground, covered by the rumbling thunder of the forgotten storm, and an even louder pained howl as Changkyun falls on his knees, overwhelmed by the burning sting bleeding down his arm. Kihyun wakes up with a start, eyes wide and heart beating out of his chest as though his soul has been trapped in a bottomless nightmare. Or rather, he’s been dropped into one when he notices Changkyun struggling to rip a tourniquet out of his white kilt.

With the coldest stare the man has ever thrown Kihyun’s way, his savior jeers through gritted teeth, “Now we’re even.”

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, we're back with our heroes! you didn't think i'd let minhyuk dead right? he has a much bigger role to play than dying in chapter 3.  
> i think i've forgotten to mention this a few times, but the original timeline is set in the early 80s - no internet or cellphones, just encyclopedia and guns kids (or for Hoseok's sake, no guns)
> 
> I will slowly introduce more characters of the court into the guide that you can access [here ](https://wrathofanubis.carrd.co/) to find more about the setting of this story, although i try my best not to make things too confusing.  
> for now, we have princes _Honamun_ [Hyungwon], and _Juhani_ [Jooheon], as well as the high priest _Sonkheyu_ [none other than Sunggyu of Infinite]
> 
> starting from this chapter, if you'd like to tweet your impressions of this story please use the #AnubisAo3 tag so I can also read them! my dms are always [open ](https://twitter.com/seoulfulnights) or if you have any questions you can leave them in my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/seoulfulnights)  
> thank you so so much for your support and stay tuned for the next chapter


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New characters introduced:  
>  _Monkhusu_ [Myungsoo/L of Infinite]  
>  _Yongsuneith_ [Yongsun/Solar of Mamamoo]  
>  _Sowadjet_ [Sojung/Sowon of GFriend]  
>  _Taekhotep_ [Taekwoon/Leo of Vixx]

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

****

The break of dawn paints Thebes in soft colors, the ebony clouds finally dispersing to reveal gentle hues of orange and pinks that brush red lights across the bricks of Karnak. In his time as an outcast, an outlaw always on the run for the next big treasure, Changkyun has witnessed many auroras kissing the empty canvas of the morning in the desert, perhaps many more in the cities he’s rested, yet none compare with the clear sky after last night’s storm. For hours, he just admires the heavens, smiling gingerly at the ancient beauty Ra sends only for his eyes to see and ignores the terrible burn that bothers his left arm.

The night has been cold and certainly wild, and although he couldn’t sleep a wink after the disastrous treatment applied to his open wound by confused priests, his pain has slowly subsided under the weight of his new leopard pelt. ‘ _It truly is the master,_ ’ the priests had whispered, watching him flay the poor animal and turn it into a simple fur coat. He felt less exposed that way, less vulnerable as though the leopard's fierceness gave him courage as well. By the time roosters announce a new day, he remembers the little legend surrounding the feline’s particular pattern, an amused smile playing on his lips but resentment building up in his chest.

Was Anubis playing a trick on him again? Is he just a pawn for that dog to toy with?

The servants bow before him as he passes through the palace's hallways, guards have learned to step aside and let him pass, and even Sonkheyu greets him with respect on his way to AmunRa's temple. Word has quickly spread of _Anpu_ not only escorting their pharaoh back to the land of the living after the gods have judged his death as an unfair bargain but also saving his life from Seth himself, disguised as a wild beast.

It makes him laugh, truly, the simplicity of these people's reason and how quick they are to explain every event by divine intervention, but can he really laugh when his friends have fallen by the hand of a vicious god and he's been sent here by another? He can't deny that these things did happen, like he can't deny the hollowness of his arm as it hangs idly by his side. His life as a thief has not been simple, and he sustained many troublesome injuries in his adventures. Gunshots hitting his ankle and almost leaving him cripple, temples collapsing in his wake as he escapes the deathtrap, knives cutting deep against his collar bones while his life is threatened with petty words. In a way, it's surprising this is the first animal who attempts to kill him and leaves his mark behind. 

Once Kihyun woke up from his slumber to find the other man kneeling in pain at his bedside, the two have worked together to stop the bleeding before Changkyun lost too much blood. Ultimately, no matter how advanced medicine was, blood transfusions were not an option and such an attack could easily leave someone short of one arm or lead to a deadly infection. Kihyun had the foresight to immediately call for his queen sleeping in the next chamber, and the beautiful woman named Yongsuneith returned in a breath with their best healers.

The fact that they were priests of Anubis, embalmers who dealt with corpses more than with the living, did not pacify a hysteric Changkyun, but their miraculous ailments and herbs worked wonders in restoring some of the feeling in his left arm. 

If he wanted, he could clench his fist, grip his fingers around something, even shake his hand lightly but nothing like before. A good chunk of his biceps had been ripped out by the mad beast and Changkyun doubted it will ever heal properly in this primitive society, no matter how many times his young priest, Monkhusu, assured him that Imhotep is watching over, and such a wound is nothing for a god like him.

Changkyun smiled and he would have ruffled the boy's hair had he had any, but all he could do is thank him for his services and, remembering who he is supposed to be, blessing him with the promise of afterlife. In retrospect, it hadn't been the best move since it took a couple of hours for him to get rid of the grateful Monkhusu kissing his feet, but winning the hearts and trust of people is essential to his survival. 

Changkyun has never been much of a morning person, preferring the solitude of the night and the intimacy of the dark, however, meeting Khonsu might have made him appreciate the friendliness of the early sun even more. Adjusting the head of the leopard over his head like a hoodie, Changkyun leaves the royal grounds and enters the city of Thebes he'd been able to get only a light taste of upon his arrival.

The merchants who sell their produce to the people serving the court eye him with reverence and palpable despair, the events behind the palace walls convincing them firmly of the gods' return, associating the strangers residing in their pharaoh's house even more with the deities they embody. Changkyun ignores their gossipy hushes and simply pulls his improvised hoodie lower over his face, setting to explore the mysterious city his father talked so fondly about. 

Many children are lulled to sleep in their parent's arms with stories of magic, knights and fairies. Changkyun supposes he wasn't that different. There was magic, and there was lots of it in the stories his father would tell him when he came home from the museum, and there were knights who rode chariots and built monuments, and there were also some sort of fairies with strange heads whom the knights worshipped in return for being granted favors. Changkyun could use a favor or two right now, perhaps a healer to mend his abused arm, but invoking some ancient spirit is definitely not on his list, not while he still has a 'debt to pay' to that little demon Khonsu.

"You're up early," comes a clear voice to his right and Juhani falls in step with him smoothly. His head has been freshly shaved and the dirtied kilt was replaced by an immaculate one, bound at the waist by a leather belt upholding a sword pouch. So this is how generals dress when they're not on the battlefield, Changkyun thinks, inspecting his new companion. "Couldn't sleep last night. _You_ are up early."

The soldier gives him a smile unlike the one he showed Kihyun, a smile that carried his titles and his worth for the kingdom, the smile of a champion. “I am always awake just in time to greet AmunRa from heavens,” Juhani explains, looking up at the sky with undisguised adoration for the creator and then at Changkyun with a similar look, nothing short of worship and faith so unfathomable for Changkyun. He himself did not believe in such things, or better said, he did not care for them as long as they did not interfere with his life, yet it seems like he can’t afford the luxury of ignorance anymore.

“Are you headed somewhere in particular, _Ruler of the Nine Bows_?” Hearing Juhani call him that, Changkyun can’t help himself from cringing at the foreign title, his rude grimace confusing the general whether he addressed the god disrespectfully or he should not approach Anpu at all. Horus has welcomed him with open arms but that did not mean Anpu would too, and the thought of offending a god scared the younger prince terribly. 

Guilt eats up at Changkyun’s heart once he remarks the vulnerable look in Juhani’s eyes. He doesn’t want to continue inventing all these fictitious stories about his supposed sanctity, but he couldn’t disappoint the people who trusted him either. Those who saw him as a savior, those who looked at him with admiration and didn’t dare to call him by his name, only one of the many titles. “Just Anubis, please,” he tries at first but when Juhani blinks puzzled at the Greek name, Changkyun is quick to suggest instead, “Or you can just call me _Wolf_. But this stays between you and me.” The offer brings a brighter grin on the prince’s lips, one that almost makes Changkyun give out one of his own but he maintains his blank facade for everyone’s sake.

“ _Wolf_ , heh,” Juhani repeats the name, letting it roll off his tongue with ease, thrilled by their newly established friendship – assuming, he could consider it one if Anpu has given him permission to call him by a name none of them knew. Perhaps even his very first one, given by Mother Isis herself when she found him as a baby. 

They stroll around the humming plaza together at a respectable distance between them, Changkyun’s curious eyes latching onto every little detail, from the smell of freshly baked bread and cakes to the laughter of children playing with their rattles on the streets. A priestess is rushing somewhere to deliver a baby, a man is carrying a basket of offerings to leave at the great temple of Amun and pray for his crops, a scribe is collecting taxes from shoppers in the company of two guards.

For these ancients, there seemed to be no moment of rest and Changkyun quite enjoys the hassle of the city compared to the stale living he was driven towards in the small, cloistered communities he’d been hiding. He enjoys bumping into people, watching them go about their daily lives, listening in on vendors haggling their prices or spying on the _medjay_ patrolling around the neighborhood. It is something he has missed more than he realized in his years as the prodigal son, the black sheep stirring clear from the heard of scientists and academics.

“I just wanted to see more of your lives, I suppose.”

“What is there to see that you don’t already know, Lord-, uh, _Wolf_?” Juhani is a very expressive man, Changkyun notes, his eyebrows wiggling at each sentence and mouth more often than not forming a small ‘o’ to show his consternation. His little indiscretion brings a flush to his cheeks, but he tries to cover it up by clearing his throat and hoping _‘Wolf’_ didn’t see it. The question, though, puts Changkyun in great difficulty. Indeed, what is left to see for a deity as old as him, someone who witnessed the birth of this nation.

“Ah, we gods…” the embarrassment of saying that outloud forms a clog in his throat that stops him from speaking for a moment. Juhani looks at him expectantly still, eyes round and glistening and prying, clinging onto every word that escapes the Lord of the Dead. 

“Well, I don’t see much of you. Not until you die, and then only for a short while,” Changkyun attempts for a half-assed explanation but, thankfully, it is enough for Juhani to believe him. And why wouldn’t he? As god of embalmers, as some sort of ancient ripper, Anubis must be busy all the time in the underworld, too busy to ever glance outside at what humans were actually doing. Not busy enough for him to stay away from kidnapping two relatively innocent men and send them on a mission – a mission they knew nothing about still. “I understand. May I ask you more questions about that part? I mean, what happens after you enter the Duat.”

Changkyun hopes Anubis is enjoying the show from his rotting place in hell, because if this was the jackal’s idea of a reward for surviving Horus’ attacks, he’d rather go back home empty-handed. Or maybe this is his punishment for all the misdemeanors and wrongdoings he committed in his life, and oh boy, there was a lot to pay for. Maybe he is facing the _Hall of Two Truths_ earlier than the rest of mankind. 

“You may ask, general, but I am afraid I can’t answer. It would be unfair of me to guide you through Duat before your time and that would surely anger Ma’at.” A clever trick he remembers from his oratory classes back at university – never answer a question directly, especially if you don’t know the answer, and pass it right back to the respondent, letting them reflect more on it alone. “One day, we will meet again. And then I’ll be able to answer your queries.”

Juhani doesn’t press him further after that and Changkyun takes it as a victory. They stop by a pottery shop where he gets the chance to admire four beautiful ceramic jars the seller gifts him without hesitation. Once he has them in his hands, he notices they’re, in fact, canopic jars, and his theory of the real Anubis mocking him really begins to take shape. “Please, remember this deed and have mercy on my soul, oh, _Dog who Swallows Millions._ ” 

For some reason, Changkyun can’t remember Anubis having so many titles among people, perhaps more than Horus or Osiris fused together, each one more absurd or hilarious than the other. If he ever gets the chance to have a decent conversation with that dog, he will come up with some better alternatives to the lame epithets. His new friend suggests carrying the gifted jars in his pouch and giving them to a servant later to deliver them to Wolf’s room, but Changkyun refuses. Even though he could not understand his reasoning, intuition told him he should not part from the ceramics or it would cost someone’s life. He is tired of seeing people die around him.

“They are scared of us. Of me,” Changkyun whispers when a peasant drops his sacks with flour and scurries away after he sees him. Juhani hesitates, searching for the kindest words, but diplomacy has always been Honamun’s expertise, not his. 

“People see your homecoming as a bad omen. We are already facing some grave issues, as you know.” The general’s voice is barely audible in the masses of people but Changkyun understands his words clearly. He’s taken enough notes to know what he’s referring to. “The Hyksos,” he states simply, quietly, not wishing to perturb the easiness between them or be overheard. After all, this is no light subject. It could even be considered a state secret since they are threading into the territory of military strategy. Juhani stops dead in his tracks, the name of the enemy surging the most savage rage out of the peaceful commander, making him almost unrecognizable.

“Yes, the foreign rulers,” he confirms, showing Changkyun another one of his faces, that of the ruthless warrior. “I and Honamun are planning on taking it back, but our father was always against it. Said it would cost us too much trouble, too many lives, too many years. He thought it would be better to just pay peace tribute to those wildlings from the east.”

Changkyun remains quiet as he processes all that was dropped on him. The two princes, who appear to be part of some sort of alliance regarding the throne’s dominion, wanted to declare war against the 14th dynasty. Juhani wished to march the pharaoh’s troops in battle and conquer once more the Nile delta, yet Changkyun knows for a fact that Lower Egypt could not be reunited with the Upper Kingdom until earliest in the sixteenth dynasty. Fairly, the citizens of Thebes, living faithfully to the old ways under an independent kingdom and repelling the vassalage of the Hyksos, were actually the ones who made the reunion possible and banished the foreigners off their lands.

But it was no pharaoh, no son of his, not even a great vizier. It was the power of the people two centuries later, a successful uprising worthy of mentioning in every history book. Encouraging the other man to pursue his verifiable heresy would be too cruel for Changkyun, but he can’t unravel the truth either. In the end, who is to say what is real and what is not when the history he thought he knew turned out to deviate so much from the reality he discovered in ancient Thebes. 

“You’ll find Horus Khyun a changed man.” Praising Kihyun is as pleasant as plunging a dagger in his wounded arm, but he cannot betray the man as long as their destinies are linked so unfairly, their rough history of betrayals be ignored. They have a premise to which they must not stray from at all costs, were they to survive the night. And for that, Changkyun has to behave as though he trusts Kihyun’s judgment more than anything, as though Kihyun was deemed by the gods a better ruler than people gave him credit, as though the late pharaoh Khyun died earlier than it was meant for him.

And maybe, maybe the new Horus Khyun will be able to make a change, maybe under his temporary rule Egypt will be able to thrive again. Is that what Anubis meant when he said ‘ _You will do great_ ’? But why send them both and not just Kihyun if Changkyun’s adversary matched the gods' vision of a just king? 

There are too many unanswered questions, too many inconsistencies and if he were to try and understand Anubis’ mind and intentions, Changkyun is certain it will drive him mad so he just drops it altogether for now. Juhani nods at his words, again those naive eyes captivated by every word coming out of Changkyun’s mouth, trusting his advice without reservation. Having to guard himself so rigorously from letting on more than he should keeps Changkyun on the edge.

For a brief second, he humors the thought of walking these roads with Juhani in his own timeline, when everything is nothing more than stones and dust under your feet, and teasing his buddy for believing in Santa Claus at his age just to see that cute pout the general gave Kihyun last night at supper. His mood is instantly killed when he feels something drop on top of his head, something wet and stinky.

“Is this still considered a blessing from Horus if father is resting on the throne?” Juhani chuckles at Changkyun’s sour face as he tries to whip out the birdshit out of his hair.

_Fucking pigeons._

 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

 

As a man of science, Kihyun never paid attention to his dreams and more often than not, he’d forget everything his unconscious conjured during the night as soon as he left the warmth of his bed. Discipline taught him to appreciate the benefits of a strict sleeping schedule rather than dwelling on useless thoughts, searching for meaning in illusions, dissecting symbols for more than their face values.

All that was just wasted time he could better invest in his research. But he could no longer trust science, he could no longer turn to reason when he finds himself in the most bizarre of situations, he couldn’t have ignored the howling jackal warning him of thieves breaking into the tomb, just as well as he can’t ignore the falcon that appears in his dreams the first night spent in the palace under the elegant sky painted above his head. 

Not long after an infirm Changkyun left his chamber as a hero, a savior sent by the gods – quite literally, Kihyun finds himself standing in a great hall made out of gold and with columns rising to the sky, a haughty throne prevailing over the dead silence. The glimmering stars come true under the crumbling ceiling, the shape of constellations narrating ominous folktales that chills Kihyun’s soul as the cosmic light is devoured by a gloomy shadow.

The weight of a _Khepresh_ draws his attention to the battle armor molded to his body, the blue headdress used as a crown in times of war matching the light kilt around his waist and the enchanted bracelets fastened on his arms by priests for strength, while Isis’ golden wings hug his chest in protection. There must be a reason why his mind carried his spirit here in pitch darkness, where hungry ghouls are crying for his honest soul, yet he can’t figure it out until the falcon sitting snug on his shoulder croaks a threat, eyes such a familiar glaring blue. And just a moment later, a monstrous snake breaks into the throne room entrusted to Kihyun to protect and swallows him whole. 

When Kihyun wakes up under the same lapis lazuli ceiling, he expects to find a cobra hissing in his face or resting on his chest. His entire existence, it appears, has taken such a drastic turn after he’s asked the well in Hyunwoo’s garden to grant him the adventure of his life, slapping him in the face with a good ol’ _be careful what you wish for_ . He’s asked for an adventure indeed, but when he looks around the chamber and sees he is still stuck in Ancient Egypt, Kihyun sighs forlorn and so does the beautiful woman attached to his arm.

 _Wait_ , backtrack.

Turning his head slightly to get a proper look at the one sharing his bed, his senses are flooded by embellished perfume and black locks tickling his nose. Kihyun’s pupils dilate with realization as he recognizes the queen Yongsuneith, resting so peacefully and using his arm as a pillow, her even breathing making her chest rise and fall to the rhythm of Egyptian drums. The turbulence of Kihyun’s awakening disturbs the charming queen’s sleep though, and Kihyun is soon met by alluring obsidian staring deep into his soul. Searching, seeking, tempting. 

“My king,” Yongsuneith whispers, resting her cheek right above Kihyun’s pounding heart, moving with the grace of a cat and her voice just as sweet as the meow of a kitten. He got to admire her last night when Honamun demanded a regal feast to welcome his resurrected father. He remarked then her gentle smile and how gracefully she rested her hand on top of his own, but also the not so subtle glances thrown his way when he was busy engaging in conversation with his second-oldest, or how she later lingered around his bedroom before he finally wished her goodnight.

Kihyun is certain that angelic face masked a cunning lioness and seeing as she snuck into his chamber sometime before sunrise, it can’t be too far from the truth. A splendid glow envelops her frame as the morning sun caresses her body lovingly, provoking Kihyun to reach and touch the soft bronze skin braced with gold and jewels. Glancing at the thin sheet covering their bodies, the brunet notices right away Yongsuneith is presenting herself bare before him spare for the choker whose beads poured down her neck and to her delicate bosom. 

An amorous smile blooms on her parted lips when she sees the pharaoh looking at her with such intensity, mistaking his jolt for desire, and it slowly turns into a grin as her leg raises up tentatively over Kihyun’s, foot brushing over his calf. Kihyun is too surprised to react in any way other than turning stiff like a statue and the woman considers the lack of rejection as encouragement to proceed and crosses her leg all the way over his waist. One swift rock and the queen of Egypt straddles her returned husband with the eagerness of the fervent Hathor, a ferocious wildcat whose eyes are burning with a fire that frightens Kihyun.

“My love, I have missed you so,” Yongsuneith moans, her hand tracing along Kihyun’s jaw and down to his naked chest. “The nights have been so cold without you but the gods were good and sent you back to me.” Kihyun is utterly speechless at such a sight, stunned by the golden chains hugging his wife’s curves, by her slowly swaying her hips against his in an attempt to arouse the king, by her sinful mouth nibbling a path of kisses on his neck. Panic surges in his blood, unable to shake off the feeling that what they’re doing was wrong.

“Yongsuneith,” he calls out her name but the queen is too entranced in her seductive play to pay any mind to the warning thrill in his voice, and even when Kihyun’s hands grip her hips quite forcefully to cease her erotic movements, she continues to touch him lewdly, emboldened by his reactions. A flustered blush tints the pharaoh’s cheeks when he feels her fingers sliding beneath the safety of the covers, and without hesitation, he summons the force bestowed upon him unknowingly and rolls their bodies over, pinning the naughty temptress down to the mattress and making sure she stays put. For a second, they’re both too surprised by his hasty response to say anything, their gazes locked in a mute conversation and Yongsuneith shaking at being deterred with the ease one blows a feather.

There’s yearning in the beauty’s eyes, but there’s also something dangerous Kihyun doesn’t want to explore. Women have always been incredible wonders for him, but he’d rather stray out of their way as much as he can. “I do not understand,” his wife whimpers from beneath him and Kihyun lets go of her wrist, standing back and putting some much-needed space between their bodies. “Did I do something wrong, my love? You’ve never …” 

The late Khyun has obviously never refused to sleep with a gorgeous woman like Yongsuneith. No sane man would, but with the way things have been going around lately, Kihyun doubts he still belongs to that category. Hurt flashes in the queen’s elegant black orbs, pulling at Kihyun’s heartstrings, and so he bows his head to press a remorseful kiss right under her frail wrist. “I apologize, my queen. I am still tired from my journey back to the living, I am still haunted by the things I have seen.” Lying adds a great burden on his shoulders, but there are no other alternatives to this encounter.

He doesn’t wish to harm Yongsuneith further, the death of her husband must have done enough damage as it is by placing her queen regent ruling the kingdom alongside the prince, yet he doesn’t want to deceive the gorgeous woman with false hope and pretenses either. Stuck in a pit between a rock and a hard place, Kihyun tries to at least let his words bear a kernel of truth. Yongsuneith awards his sincerity with a sympathetic smile, fingers latching to hold onto Kihyun in prayer and eyes adverting to their united hands shyly. 

“Of course you are, my lord, I should have known better. I was just so happy,” the tremble of her voice is so earnest, it stirs something in Kihyun’s chest. He might call it empathy, but he’s more inclined towards reasonable skepticism. “I visited Isis’ temple every day, praying for your soul, praying for you to reach Osiris safe and join Horus in the afterlife. And you did it, my love, you did even more and fought the gods to return here, to become Horus Khyun, the king who defeated death.” 

She has a tight grip on him as though she fears he might disappear in thin air or succumb back to the underworld were she not holding him close, yet her lips quiver in a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes, exposing her true colors. Is that desperation or just malicious intent? Could Yongsuneith be the snake Horus warned him about in his dreams?

Now that he is completely sober and every ounce of sleep left his numb body, Kihyun scrutinizes the seductive queen’s stifling intentions. Although he knew nothing of the original man he’s supposed to impersonate, Kihyun’s intuition fears that the love Yongsuneith carried for the real Khyun had not been as great as her affectionate gestures might suggest at first.

In the end, most pharaohs were nothing more than tyrannical, violent men who abused their power and loved to overindulge in the pleasures of life – drinking and eating excessively, but also taking as many wives as they desired, deprivation coming naturally to the absolute monarchs of Egypt who reigned as they willed with their godly titles. Most of the time though, the debauchery that ensued was the cause of their downfall and destruction. And if the portrait of the average pharaoh was not enough to stir suspicions regarding Yongsuneith’s behavior, devoting to only one woman is almost unheard of and the striking differences between the three royal children only seemed to strengthen Kihyun’s argument.

There must be something deeper to the young queen’s advances, something unrelated to feelings or loyalty. The only answer Kihyun’s mind can conjure this early with no drop of caffeine in his system is simple, yet more complicated than he’d like it. _Power_.

Egyptian women were ahead of their time, enjoying rights that modern women had to fight decades for. Owning land or filing for a divorce or, if they came from the right family, even getting an education in a world where illiteracy was the norm. And queens especially were not to be underestimated.

Behind a good man stood a great woman. The more he looked into Yongsuneith’s muddled eyes, the more Kihyun began to see her for who she really was. From the way Honamun gave away his birthright to someone who could have been a stranger until proven otherwise, or how disinterested the second prince acted about the affair of the land unless it concerned the glory of a battle, it is clear as day that the reigns of the kingdom actually fell in someone else's hands, and who would be a better contender than the queen. “I am grateful for that, my lady, so please don’t misjudge my answer to your advances,” he says at last quietly, slipping out of the woman’s reach.

The treacherous tinge of perfidy draped over Yongsuneith’s sweet face is shaken slightly for the briefest moment at those words, her eyes darkened, her smile pale, and with a defeated nod she leaves the pharaoh’s side and runs back to her chambers not bothering to cover her nakedness. Kihyun looks away bashfully, the blush never quite leaving his cheeks the whole time he was stunned by the acclaimed Egyptian acceptance of nudity and sexuality. 

Pretending to be king will be more difficult than he thought, Kihyun realizes apathetic, falling back resigned in his warm sheets and burying his face in the fluffy pillow. There are too many people to be wary of, people with solid reasons to judge his capabilities or wish to see him dead, people like Sonkheyu or Yongsuneith striving for power. Too many reasons to watch his back during the day, and even at night he is not safe under the pretense of sleep while the threat of beasts attempting to devour him lurks in dark corners. And this was just his first day as pharaoh, before being officially introduced to his people or the rest of the court. All the excitement of discovering on his own skin the ancient world he loves so much is flushed down the drain, shoved aside by the looming risk of death at any moment.

Four days since he'd last seen Hyunwoo, since he abandoned his old life, and he still can't understand why Anubis hadn't simply killed them in the tomb like the curse of the pharaoh foretold. Why he bothered to use his powers and send them back in time. _You will do great._ The words haunt him but not as much as being stuck with the one man he swore to loathe until the day he dies. Im Changkyun.

He doubts he can actually count on that jackass when the bastard wants him dead as much as any other man in the kingdom right now, and Anubis should have known that with his omniscient powers and yet chose to send them together on this journey. _The greatest adventure of his life._ Kihyun closes his eyes and takes deep breaths to calm his nerves, but every time he shuts himself from the world, all he sees is Hyunwoo thrown like a ragdoll against the tomb’s wall, all he hears is Minhyuk's final scream, all he smells is the rotten scent of decay and corruption. When he stabbed Horus, or at least a representation of the god, a blue light shrouded him like a shield. Ever since, he felt his intuition heightened, as though he could see beyond masks and lies and go right to the truth.

 _You always did threaten Horus to eat his guts_ , Honamun only half-joked the day before when he accepted Kihyun's unworded claim. True enough, people of the Old Kingdom used to believe pharaohs could and would challenge the gods in heaven, their spirits fighting to the death to defeat them and steal their powers. Is this what actually happened to him in the tomb? And yet, he failed to sense the danger despite having a whole leopard climbed on top of him, an animal who would have been his butcher if Changkyun hadn't come to his rescue. 

And back to square one. The eternal enigma of Im Changkyun, a man as intelligent and talented as he is vile and selfish. What a waste, Kihyun sighs, mind drifting to shy smiles and shared books and the sweet coffee at brunch in the cafe down the road. To endearing moles and cute dimples and memories that hurt too much to recall. No, he won't go down that lane, he knows exactly what sort of traitor the human mind can be, how it lets us believe the bad wasn't that bad and the good was better and beyond. No, the past cannot be altered and therefore it is useless to spend time obsessing over it. What a hypocrisy coming out of a historian's mouth.

One step at a time though and he'll figure it out, he'll find a way to go back home, with or without Im Changkyun. There's no use crying over his fate in bed all day, not when he could actually enjoy himself and perhaps learn more from Juhani, so he kicks the covers off and searches for appropriate clothing to wear, clothes worth of a pharaoh. There is a silver tray resting on his table and the smell of poultry lures him like a magnet. Chicken has always been his absolute favorite dish and he can't wait to dig into the ancient recipe but unlike his wife, he can't enjoy the breeze blowing on his private parts. 

The chamber is plainly furnished since the real Khyun must have taken everything he valued in this life with him to the tomb, leaving behind only the extravagant four-poster canopy bed, the round table by the balcony filled with delicacies, a few drawers engraved with protective symbols, and a statue of Bastet resting on top of a wooden chest. Kihyun tries his luck putting aside the feline goddess totem, praying she won't also come to life to hunt him, and grins victoriously when he finds soft linen waiting for him.

There are a few kilts and gowns trimmed with golden threat, pressed flowers in between them releasing a balmy bouquet in the air, and underneath them in secret lies a coated bronze tunic like the one in his dream. His fingertips trace the sculpted wings in awe, astonished by the intricate work put into making such an incredible piece. Every scale, every feather, every jewel is reinforced on top of a leather coat that would just about reach his waist, meeting the majestic belt Kihyun discovers right next to it. 

The head of Sekhmet is familiar to a scholar like him, the vicious goddess of war baring her sharp fangs at the enemy of the king and Kihyun decides right there and then he does not want to meet this deity in person. Perhaps if he is to ever see another god, he could settle a date with somebody more civilized – like Thoth, the god of scribes and knowledge, not the lioness who almost destroyed humanity in her blood lust. However, donning himself with such symbols of authority might be exactly what he needed as the new lawful king, the right decision to send the others a message that he is not to mess with.

He still has to find out who released that leopard in his chambers last night and why there were no guards to protect him in the first place, why Changkyun had to destroy his locked door in order to save him from the animal when none of these were supposed to happen. This is a conspiracy to take him down, he is certain of that, and as pharaoh, he must uncover the mind behind these schemes before his own head rolls down the stairs of the palace. Until then, he must search for means of protection against the whole world complotting for his life, mortal or not. 

Kihyun hesitates before picking up the armor, meant to shelter a king in fight. It’s much heavier than he thought and he’d surely have trouble strapping it to his body by himself, but maybe he can ask one of the servants to come and help him. Unless they are in on the plot and they try to stab him as soon as he’s got his back turned, and then –  “Shit, I have to stop thinking like this or I’ll lose it,” he curses quietly, shaking his head to empty it of all paranoid ideas. _Be rational, Kihyun, deep breaths_ , the king chides himself, hands gripping the wooden chest before him tightly. When he opens his eyes again, it is not the noble armor shining under the rays of the morning sun that he sees, but a living _Uraeus_ sticking its bifurcated tongue out and hissing right in his face.

“ _Wadjet_?” he tries unsure, wondering if this is just another godly epiphany or a vermin slithered in his chamber. Wadjet is, after all, one of the most ancient of them all and a foremost protector of the pharaoh, the snake goddess who spits venom at whoever threatened the king of Egypt and rests on top of their crowns proudly.

The luscious scales fascinate Kihyun straight away, each of them polished with luxurious oils that reflect the colors of a rainbow when the snake raises up its massive body. This is no ordinary serpent, Kihyun realizes falling for its enchanting eyes, this is a domesticated one, one trained to listen to someone’s commands. It could dance, were somebody to play the flute for it, or it could kill, were it put in the right circumstances. Hungry, enraged, boiling in a wooden chest hidden beneath piles of clothes, spitefulness simply spits out of that poisonous tongue with every hiss.

The royal cobra leans backward, its neck ribs spreading out louringly like an entrancing fan and its eyes hypnotizing Kihyun’s better judgment to lean in and touch the cold skin. A thrilled growl suddenly catches his attention, making him turn away from that magnetic gaze just as the cobra launches itself to strike with hatred. Its fangs never reach their target though, an aristocratic shadow plunging out of the dark heroically at the villain and ripping its head off before it could do any harm.

Aghast and honestly horripilated by those demonic eyes still staring at him despite being disentangled from the body, Kihyun wakes up to a lapful of a purring black cat playing with the snake’s corpse as though it was a simple rope. “You…” the pharaoh stares in those golden pupils, at that impish grin and the sharp claws using the cobra for a scratch post, perplexed such an adorable small creature saved him from possible death. The cat keeps rolling around, fawning against his bare skin and basically demanding his undivided attention with the prettiest meows. What is he to do, a poor mortal pretending to be immortal, other than listen conscientiously?

The Egyptians knew what they were doing worshipping cats, associating them with the goddess Bastet, protector of Ra and of the king, keeping them around to hunt rats and scorpions and, of course, snakes, but also protect households from evil spirits. This little fella has just done that so masterly. “You’re my protector, aren’t you?” Kihyun cooes when the kitten nuzzles his jaw with her little wet nose and he scratches behind her ears, petting her soft black fur gently with a smile on his face. He’s never had a pet, but he wouldn’t mind if this precious ball of cuteness stuck around him. 

“It’s almost noon and you’re playing with a fleabag?” comes a deadpanning voice from what used to be Kihyun’s doorway, if only the younger hadn’t ruined it with an iron rod. The pharaoh turns to glare at Changkyun, holding his new baby to his chest and pressing an apologetic kiss on her left ear hoping she won’t understand the insult. “What do you want?” Last time he saw the outlaw, the man was still wearing his ripped shirt tucked in black cargo pants and paired with leather boots, a style not so different from what he recalls the other to have had in the past. Now, he is almost unrecognizable clad in the garb meant for a priest, but maintaining the same cocky poise Kihyun grew to despise.

Nonetheless, he can’t deny Changkyun’s good looks eclipse even the rich garment of a high-priest like Sonkheyu, his gown of an impeccable white with one sleeve hanging idly at his waist, exposing his chiseled chest and the _ankh_ draped around his neck. His wounded arm is covered under the protection of the leopard pelt the brunet made for himself, and the head of the animal rests on his right shoulder ominously, warning enemies of who they’re about to approach. And to complete the image of a genuine ancient, his eyes have been smudged with kohl in a prevailing line.

“Is that how you talk to the one who saved your life, prick?” Changkyun scoffs, eyebrow raised and arms crossed over a scar across his abdomen. Kihyun wonders how that one happened, and his gaze instinctively slides up to the awful one right below Changkyun’s collar bone before settling on his bandaged biceps and the blood staining it. A sense of guilt sinks his stomach and twists his guts, but it is quickly replaced by the enmity Changkyun’s presence alone stirs in his chest.

Judging by the kitten’s restless writing in his lap, she is not too keen of the Anubis impersonator either. “Didn’t you say that made us even? I saved you from Horus if you don’t remember,” he challenges, voice just above a mumble as he’s careful not to be overheard by others. Leopards, venomous snakes, Kihyun awaits a new surprise attack at any moment now from the most unexpected places. Changkyun just rolls his eyes, prepared to throw another cheeky comment about Kihyun being the sole reason Horus had been activated in the first place, but the black cat he so disdainfully tried to ignore jumps out of Kihyun’s loving arms without warning. 

Changkyun is quick to catch her, thankfully, avoiding having four clawed paws pricking his bare chest and only having to deal with that evil glare the stinky cat sends his way like he’s upset her deeply and should repent for his actions. But he is no less catty than her, reciprocating the glare with shared disgust, and then hoisting her up by the nape to bring the tiny pest up to his eye level and make sure she understands just how much he wants her gone. He’s suffered enough damage from felines lately and even though the gash left behind by the bigger cougar is miraculously almost healed, most likely in part to some black magic the dog from the underworld must have performed on him, Changkyun is fixated on getting rid of any and all cats lurking around.

Kihyun watches amused, trying not to laugh too hard when his precious kitten first spits in Changkyun’s face and then proceeds to throw a fluffy paw at the other’s cheek, drawing blood with her ferocious claws. “You fucking -“ Changkyun yelps, dropping the poor animal down and the cat turns into a blur leaving the scene without a trace, while the priestly man clutches at the stingy graze.

“You’re such an idiot. You reek like a filthy dog, what did you think would happen?” Kihyun chuckles, barely holding back a roaring laughter which would surely anger Changkyun even more. Ignoring the despicable insult and the temptation of calling his rival a child for comparing him to a dog every chance he got, Changkyun finally announces why he disturbed the pharaoh’s precious time to begin with. “I hope your wargame is alright because your sons want you to conquer Lower Egypt.”

The revelation makes Kihyun’s blood run cold in his veins and his chest feel tight as though the cobra managed to wrap itself around him and set to asphyxiate him. “My sons want what now?” he repeats incredulous to which Changkyun only huffs, evidently not in the mood to rehash his statement. Instead, he strides towards the tempting breakfast and shamelessly dives into the food delivered to Kihyun. The older is too stunned by the news to reprimand Changkyun or tell him to fuck off, which he normally would to anyone who eats his chicken, manner sets aside. How in the name of Ra will he be able to conquer Lower Egypt sieged by the Hyksos, how is he supposed to lead an army or even fight a single battle?

“Where did you hear that?” Kihyun finally speaks, the shadow of fear looming over his usual bright features. This is exactly the sort of scenario he dreaded upon realizing the hardships entrusted to him as Lord of the Two Ladies, as protector of the realm. Changkyun doesn’t bother to answer at first, making a point to chew loudly on the seared tenders and drink all the wine, rudeness not helping much with the crude remarks sitting at the tip of Kihyun’s tongue.

Clearly, his companion is indifferent to the jeopardy they are under, mostly because he is not the one who will be sent in combat to the warfront, and  Changkyun could give himself away at most if people demanded he mummify some high ranks and proved incapable of such an essential task. “Juhani told me this morning. He seems set on it and so does his brother,” he says at last, whipping his greasy fingers off a towel he procures from Kihyun’s open coffer. “I don’t understand how you just knew their names when this damn dynasty has been basically unwritten off history’s pages.” The snide is so familiar to Kihyun when it comes out of Changkyun’s mouth, sending him back to a past where the younger would pout if his colleague scored a better grade at one of their blitzquizes their professors were so keen on. 

Kneeling beside the pharaoh, Changkyun rummages through Kihyun’s treasure chest with great interest, lured by its shiny contents that could earn him a fortune on the right market to the right dealer – especially the grand tunic with Isis’ protective crossed wings. “Nice armor, you might as well use it. Maybe your _mother_ will show up next and take us home.” Changkyun’s needless commentary does nothing to settle Kihyun’s nerves and, in fact, it sends him down a spiral of biting thoughts, triggering an actual unhinged meltdown. He tugs at his brown locks in frustration, head dropping in defeat between his knees as he curls up into a pitiful ball of despair and rage.

With no way to return to their ordinary lives, no way to retrace their steps on the same path that brought them in this hazzard with gods and mortals alike scheming to execute the perfect murder, Kihyun curses Anubis and all the other gods complice with this plague befallen on him. He curses those damn thieves who broke into the tomb and unleashed the pharaoh’s curse upon them, he curses himself for being such an idiot and setting off an ancient trap that killed not only his best friend but also two (in principal) innocent people. How could he ever forgive himself for that?

Changkyun remains silent as a tomb, perhaps taking his role as Lord of the Dead too seriously, yet isn’t that what Kihyun should also be doing? Own that throne and lead Egypt to the best of his abilities, trying to rebuild the prosperous empire that once was, just like the actual princes are intending to do. There is no promise of them ever finding a portal or gate similar to the one he supposes they entered when hiding in King Chae’s sarcophagus, and without the help of gods, they are completely lost in this maze. Perhaps they should settle comfortably and treat Egypt as their new home instead.

“I guess they are waiting for the pharaoh.” Changkyun nods, his face devoid of emotion but also serene like the crystalline surface of the Nile on a torid day. Kihyun is yearning for a cold bath in that luxurious water, but he’s too scared of crocodiles to even approach it. For once, having the younger so close to him gives him a bit of hope. “I still haven’t forgiven you,” Kihyun is quick to point out, narrowing his eyes when Changkyun gives him another raised eyebrow for stating the obvious. “Neither have I.”

“But we have to work together to survive this.” Despite all odds and expectations, the two rivals have finally found something they could agree on without further discussions or arguments. Changkyun holds out his hand and Kihyun takes it in his own, ignoring the goosebumps and little sparks flying from his fingers at the forgotten contact, and they shake on their new alliance for the time being. It’s been a long time since they’ve been in such close proximity, since their hands touched at all, and Kihyun is reluctant to pull away, even though his chest aches with resentment.

There used to be a time when he could decipher what Changkyun was thinking just with one look, he got a glimpse of that in the tomb and perhaps he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, expecting his old friend to still be buried in the shell of this bandit.

When he looks at the other man now, he only finds an unreadable expression and tormented eyes. Helping the pharaoh stand up, Changkyun shamelessly checks out his figure, disregarding the flush that blooms from Kihyun’s face down to his neck and shoulders. The thin arms and modern underwear would not cut it for the ancients, and the man obviously had no idea how to dress in general. If they want to survive, _together_ , then Kihyun desperately needed Changkyun’s help.

Ignoring the brunet’s aggrieved look, Changkyun sets to explore the rest of his regal bedroom, pulling out all drawers from their confines in search of an essential little thing every Egyptian should own and which the priests and servants couldn’t have forgotten to place in their king’s chambers. It doesn’t take too long to locate it once he discovers all the perfumed oils and fragrant myrrh, the scented smell of unburned incense hitting him quite strong when he peeks inside a wicker box. “You can’t go meet your subjects like this,” he scoffs at Kihyun’s utterly lost look and grabs his chin forcefully, bringing him in close.

This could go in so many directions, but Kihyun is too frightened to find out what Changkyun’s got in his mind exactly so he opens his mouth ready to protest or spill insulting names at the address of his former enemy. However, Changkyun has the cheek to shush him and tell him to close his eyes as though he is the one in charge and Kihyun should ultimately listen to him. “Do you trust me?” the one pretending to be Anubis asks, and although Kihyun could assure him that no, he definitely does not trust him, he has no other choice in spite of how much he hates having his cheeks squished like that. 

So, unwillingly, he does as told and a moment later, he feels something glide along his upper lash line, Changkyun’s fingers handling the kohl pencil with unexpected grace and precision as he applies the infamous eye makeup every Egyptian wore in the day. “Open your eyes and look up,” the younger mutters, his breath hitting Kihyun’s cheek and immediacy startling the other to the point Kihyun can hear his racing heartbeat pulsating in his crimson ears. If Changkyun leaned in just a bit more, he’d be able to hear those drums too. He stays put though, eyes narrowed in concentration and tongue peeking out slightly while he rubs the smearing black to the lower line, a habit Kihyun recognizes in a daze from when the other had trouble identifying a particular hieroglyph.

When he is done, he takes a step back to admire his work, fixating Kihyun with his gaze like a painter admires his muse after every other stroke of brush. “Alright, that should do.” Kihyun doesn’t have to check a mirror to know Changkyun did an alright job, he is knowledgeable enough of the type of music the man used to listen and the fashion he would pull whenever he went to a concert. The eye makeup doesn’t seem to be enough for Changkyun as he marches determined back to the wooden chest.

“Put the armor on, it will impress the queen at least or something,” he says, shoving the tunic towards Kihyun’s chest and before the pharaoh can ask, quite annoyed, since when Changkyun is qualified to give out fashion advice, the younger continues. “Maybe you should start working out. It’ll be helpful for the war.” 

 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

 

He knows what to expect upon entering the throne chamber before he pushes past the heavy doors of gold. The smothering perfume hits his hound nose a long way as he rushes through the heavenly castle to his king’s side, worried about his condition after last night’s attack. Apophis is growing stronger each day and despite all his attempts to push back the evil snake, the doors to the underworld are creaking louder and louder, desperate souls banging at the gates demanding to be released in the realm of the living, seeking vengeance and wishing to inflict suffering to those still breathing.

Being encouraged by Seth to uprise against Osiris, and basically also against Anubis’ vicious bark, the spirits are restless in their shackles, causing the jackal a tremendous amount of issues. With AmunRa hiding and leaving his barge to Khonsu, Osiris retreated deep in the afterlife, and Horus now ill, there’s little hope for the realm of Aaru to survive were Apophis to strike. And, if that wasn’t enough trouble already, Anubis also has two puppers to babysit back in Thebes. 

After their last meeting when Horus already found himself in such a miserable and vulnerable state, Anubis supposed he would have invoked the divine mother and ask for her sacred healing to restore his lost vitality but he should have known better. Isis was too preoccupied attending to her husband’s slumber, mourning him along her sister Nepthys in the darkest, most hidden places of the underworld where the former pharaoh’s sarcophagus lies in hiding. Which, ultimately, left Horus with three other potential healers, each deity less pleasant than the other.

Apophis’ dark influence has corrupted Sekhmet by now, the goddess unleashing her wrath over innocents, overtaken by her monstrous bloodlust, and Anubis would rather imagine she’d first descend to the ancient palace of Horus Khyun to annihilate anyone on sight before attending to her lawful pharaoh’s requests. Hathor has been quite absent seeing to her _Mistress of the West_ title, and Anubis doubts Horus would reach out to her at this point given their special circumstances. And then there was Bastet. Despite bracing himself for the worst of all felines, seeing the cat goddess draped all over a faint Horus as she performs one of her curative rituals still sickens the Lord of the Dead. 

“You have some nerve to show your ugly muzzle here,” Bastet hisses, her eyes closed as she dances around the ill pharaoh, her rattle banishing evil spirits and the burning incense irritating Anubis’ vigilant eyes. To her merit, Horus does look better, healthier, with some color returned to his pale cheeks, but his eyes are still bloodshot with woe and heavy with the burden of protecting his kingdom. Anubis pushes aside the well-deserving guilt that hits him, knowing he is the cause of his king’s demise, and focuses instead on the unwelcome guest.

“You knew I would come, so why are you still here, Bast?” he pushes and the goddess ceases her prayers to send a wicked glare his way. She is just as he remembers her  – tall, gorgeous, and unapologetically spiteful towards foes. The familiar red of her dress draws Anubis’ attention to her slim waist, while the two strings beaded with blue topaz and trimmed with gold exposed her perfectly round breasts proper for a fertility goddess like Bastet. A turquoise collar protects her neck and her long hair cascades on her shoulders and chest in rivers of black, tapped down by golden jewels. 

 

Despite her ambrosial appearance and the angelic glow of her caramel skin, Bastet’s stunning face remains hidden beneath the mask of a wild cat, letting Anubis know she is not in the friendliest of moods. The jackal is not too keen to see her either, but the rage of the feline seems to be directed towards the king’s fragile health. “First of all, address me correctly, you scruffy dog,” she spits at him and for a second, Anubis awaits Bastet to choke out a ball of fur. It wouldn’t be the first time. “But I hoped you’d be ashamed of yourself for endangering our pharaoh like that. Clearly, I was wrong. I should have known you have no sense of consciousness.”

The Foremost of the Westerners bites on his tongue, knowing better than to engage in a petty fight with the cat that could anger Horus when there are much higher stakes at risk. With Bastet by their side, aiding to the pharaoh’s needs and using her miraculous powers to alleviate his condition, it meant that the goddess has not fallen under the spell of evilness yet, that she could still see right through hoaxes and jinxes and detect black magic and malicious spirits. Truly a powerful ally to have by their side, but having to look her in those split yellow eyes doesn’t make Anubis any happier. “You can have a lover’s quarrel later, can you finish your ritual now?” Horus’ weak voice croaks from his throne, startling both.

“We are not -” The two deities promptly deny any such allegations but the coincidental timing shuts their mouths in an instant and the falcon rests his case. Horus only spares them an unimpressed, bored look, although he would usually find such things quite entertaining to watch, especially if they are related to his beloved cousin of the underworld, but he is far too weakened to laugh at Anubis’ misery of being confined in the same room with the goddess he lusted after eons ago. Bastet dodges her eyes from looking at the two men and rushes to grab her remedial herbs, burning the sage bouquet to cleanse the chamber.

Anubis heaves a sigh, fatigued and consumed by his latest efforts to uphold a collapsing world, and he kneels defeated before Horus’ throne. “I know I have no right to ask more of what you’ve already offered me, Horus,” the jackal pleas, stern eyes searching to meet that soothing blue sky, seeking to convey the depth of his anguish. “But your descendent will need all the help he can get if he is to restore order in the downworld or help us save Aaru.” 

“Horus will not allow you to bleed out his life force anymore for your stupid senet strategies, mongrel,” Bastet hisses, baring her feline fangs at her rival, claws sharp like knives ready to attack anyone who compromises her king’s safety. He forgot just how feisty the goddess could turn, despite being tamed by mankind and passing all savageness to her sister Sekhmet, however, Anubis is determined to obtain what he needs for his plans to succeed.

“You do not understand the risks you’re taking then,” he barks at her, earning himself another threatening hiss Horus is too weak to hush out. “Oh, it is you that does not understand, Anubis,” Bastet retorts with the same glare Anubis became accustomed to during their last meeting. How he wishes he wouldn’t have to face it again. “I am Bastet, daughter of Ra, protector of the sun and of the pharaoh. I will not let you harm Horus anymore. Our king, or the one below.” 

 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

 

The news of the pharaoh’s resurrection has sparked joy throughout the kingdom as prayers to Osiris exalted in every temple and every house lit up by the fire of faith and the mute astoundment in front of the wonder, but it has also awakened dread and horror in just as many hearts. Throughout all of their history, there has only been one man who came back from the dead and even he did not return quite whole, his body a relict and his soul cold, befitting to rule only in the underworld and never step foot among the living again. The dead shall stay dead and their revival is nothing short of a catastrophe, nothing but a plague sent by the gods to cleanse the world. A warning of the atrocities to come. Now, to compare the late pharaoh Khyun with Osiris is beyond insulting in the first place, a blasphemous crime that should be punished without hesitation.

“If only we could cut the tongues of those heretics who call him Horus Khyun,” Sonkheyu huffs, wiping the sweat off his forehead with disdain. How he would like to serve justice to his Lord Amun and re-establish the peace and order he worked so hard for, to bring a pharaoh worthy of the title forward, someone who will bring Egypt to its former glory. Someone who knows the law, someone who has lead a just life through all of his days, someone who looks to the gods for advice and doesn’t mock their names. Someone like him. 

Prince Honamun invoked an urgent meeting earlier, to discuss matters of state with his father and their councilors, which brought him to this rigid wooden chair surrounded by empty seats, placed far from the golden throne that impostor could wallow himself in. "Careful, Sonkheyu," the woman across from him sitting right by the pharaoh’s right warns with a playful hint in her sultry voice. Her rich hair fell over her shoulders in waves and a golden chain placed as a dazzling tiara around her crown matched the mischievous sparkle in her black orbs. “One might accuse you of betrayal if you speak of our king like that.” Sonkheyu strives to offer a diplomatic smile to her, but he’s never liked Sowadjet much and his face is too sour for anything but a grimace at this point.

Still, he has to thread prudently around the vizier or else his head might rest by his feet. “My lady, are you not suspicious at all about this trick of the gods?” he asks, twisting one of his many rings between his digits. Sowadjet follows the movement amused but Sonkheyu has known the little vixen long enough not to underestimate her. She made greater men than him fall. “I, for one, am certain he is just one of Seth's demons sent to throw the kingdom in chaos,” he confesses. A risky move but if he could win an important ally like Sowadjet by his side, then it is worth a shot.

The charming woman rests her cheek against her palm, golden bracelets dangling as they cascade down her arm clinking like the chains of prisoners in dungeons. It unsettles him greatly, but not as much as the vile fire lighting her dulcet face. She is indeed the _daughter of Wadjet_ , a fascinating protector ready to strike whoever she deems a danger to Egypt, her figure hypnotizing and her tongue lethal with venom. A single word and she could imprison any man, woman or child of Egypt on the presumption of treason. Sonkheyu cusses her noble family for not sending her to be one of Amun’s wives instead of placing their daughter in the hands of the king and letting her grow up at the court, allowing her to become such a significant personality around the royals that the deceased pharaoh appointed her his right hand in spite of her youth.

“The kingdom, my dear high priest, is already in chaos. I doubt he could bring more damage than the one already done and besides,” her tongue peaks to wet her painted lips and her voice drops to a deadly whisper. “We both know our prince was not prepared to be king. Not less than this Horus Khyun.“ Sonkheyu groans, a silent agreement coming in between the two powerful councilors as they wait for the rest to join them. 

“That we do, great vizier,” the high priest of Amun speaks up again, fishing shrewdly for Sowadjet’s genuine thoughts on the unforeseeable situation. If only he could figure her out, then he’d know how to explore it to his advantage and perhaps even compel her to support his claim to the throne. “But are we just going to accept him as our lord?” The question gets the vizier thinking, a tiny scrunch wrenching her button nose, an expression she usually adopts when the young princess is in trouble or when the great scribe rambles about applying incremental taxes in the name of Ma’at. Her eyes drift to the heavens for answers, rain threatening to overtake the skies once more, a sequel to the thundering storm of last night and a blessing for their fields Amun is kind enough to provide.

This shall be a prosperous flooding season, and many fertile fields should emerge from it with enough grains to harvest and last through another hectic year – or even through a bloody war like the two princes are planning. Sowadjet is not too wary of that part though, the real Khyun would never approve such a hasty move. Turning to face the cunning man, she dismisses his worries and prodes curiously instead, "Does he really look like they say?  Is he young once more, has the eternal Nile grant him beauty beyond this world?”

Sonkheyu’s abashed face is a sight to behold when contrasted to his stoic and level-headed personality, and Sowadjet simply loves stirring things up to see the impassive priest explode like a volcano. Their conversation is sadly cut short by the arrival of two men that couldn’t be more different – a general, reserved and calculated but with a built prepared to take down an entire army on his own, and a scribe, slender and sickly looking but slick with his words and perspicacious about all schemes. Yet neither bother to salute those already present at the table as they take their honorary seats. With Taekhotep’s brooding presence, no one dares to strike another conversation and utter silence envelopes the council chamber for a long while until Honamun and Juhani finally make their entrance.

And right behind them, a young man holding the crook and flail surrounded by an aura of gold and might, bearing the red and white double crown of a united kingdom. Sonkheyu straightens up his back, Sowadjet leans in tampering, Taekhotep watches with an inquisitive look, and the scribe’s grip on one of his papyruses tightens as Horus Khyun takes to the throne, officiating their first assembly.  “Let’s begin, shall we?”

 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow a weekly update i have no idea what possessed me, but I hope you liked it??  
> I will soon post a page in the guide i mentioned before where you can always refer to for the characters since they are from, frankly, a lot of fandoms. 
> 
> my dms are always [open ](https://twitter.com/seoulfulnights) or if you have any questions you can leave them in my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/seoulfulnights)  
> thank you so much for your support and stay tuned for the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Those who read ch.5 early might have noticed that Juhani called Changkyun "Khyun", just like Kihyun's pharaoh name. I fixed that mistake and instead Juhani calls him_ Wolf _now. Sorry for the slipup! I've also redressed the formatting so the paragraphs are not as long and dragged on._
> 
> New characters introduced:  
>  _Hyodjine_ [Hyojin/LE of Exid]  
>  _Munbyulys and Hejineb_ [Byulyi/Moonbyul and Hyejin/Hwasa of Mamamoo]  
>  _Hanbini_ [Hanbin of IKon]  
> 
> 
> just mentioned:  
>  _Eunbini_ [Eunbi/Eunha of GFriend]  
> 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

Drumbeats line up the paths leading to the core of Karnak, the triumphant day enlivening its temples with celebrations and joyousness as thousands of people gather to praise Amun for the wonder, for restoring their dying bloodline and their fading hope. Karnak wields strength in the hearts of many, perhaps more than ever now that the gods proved they have not abandoned them but blessed Egypt with the greatest gift of all, a messiah in the shape of Horus’ long awaited reincarnation. 

Times have been dire for a couple of decades after the 12th dynasty set its last stone in a pyramid, and the 13th has lost half of the kingdom to foreign rulers, yet at last AmunRa showed his beautiful face once more and the sun rose high up in the skies. A distinct elegance confers Karnak a special place among all the ancient temples despite its short lived existence, a place of prayer and hope where everyone could come and seek divine guidance in exchange for tributes to the cherished gods as the customs dictate. 

The paths of many cross at its gates when they feel most ill-fated, and Yongsuneith is no exception, despite her title of Great Wife to the pharaoh.  

Albeit Karnak is, without a doubt, the root for the cult of Amun, each and every column revealing depictions of the solar disk and his monumental power, Yongsuneith has little faith in the divine creator for he never listened to her prayers. He is no longer the god she turns to now for solace and advice and if that makes her an infidel queen, Yongsuneith would accept her fate as she knows the _Mistress of the West_ is watching over her. 

Raised as a priestess at Hathor’s temple in Dendera, fostered under the divine protection of the goddess of love and joy, of music and sex, Yongsuneith has known for as long as she could remember that her destiny was one of a queen’s. As a priestess, she’d spend her time dancing, enchanting gods and men alike, helping women bring forth their children and healing the wounded when she could. 

Eventually, she’d been given the great honor of embodying the goddess Hathor during the festival of drunkenness, a celebration of Ra’s mercy and kindness for when he sparred us from utter destruction. 

The myths tell that Ra let Hathor loose to punish humans for their evilness and wrongdoings after Ma’at had been disrespected for too long, and the goddess showed herself as Sekhmet, the vicious lioness who does not forgive any sins against her father. All the bloodshed made the war goddess go mad and her thirst for battle couldn't be satisfied no matter how many lives she ripped apart with her claws. 

When humanity was almost destroyed, Ra took pity on us and poured beer for the huntress to drink, tinted with red ochre so it resembled blood luring the feline goddess. The alcohol managed to get Sekhmet drunk and at last, she was stopped from her slaughter and peacefully returned to her place as Ra’s most trusted warrior. Yongsuneith isn’t sure of the accuracy of that legend as she is confident her mistress wouldn’t turn into such a savage hunting humans until the very last one stood before her as prey.

 But what she does know for sure is that every year when the Nile flooded their farms, one of AmunRa’s many blessings on their lands, the temple of Dendera would be filled to the brim. Unlike other religious festivals, this one is definitely unique in its own right.  

The festival of drunkenness is dedicated to all people, no matter peasant or elite, an invitation to take delight in the pleasures of life and fall together into one great inebriation which would bring them closer to the gods. Priestesses with flowing garlands in their curls and voluptuous hips would entertain the guests, pouring beer in every raised cup until it spilled on the ground to the sound of drunken laughter. 

In the morning, they would be awoken by the sound of tribal drums summoning their spirits and raising them up one step closer to _Aaru_ as priests carry the one chosen to impersonate Hathor in a golden litter, the gorgeous goddess waiting to be presented with offerings. 

And that is how when the pharaoh approached Yongsuneith with her cow horned crown absolutely smitten and stunned by her charm, instead of entrusting her a tribute to appease the wild lioness within her and pray for an abundant season, he asked her to be his sixth wife. Yongsuneith could not miss the chance of becoming queen over all of Egypt and so she had no hesitation in taking Khyun’s hand and following him back to the palace. 

His first four consorts have died before Khyun could walk around holding the scepter of was, and the fifth not long after Yongsuneith joined the court, passing the royal vulture onto her shoulders to carry, a weight and burden Yongsuneith underestimated until she found herself by her husband’s right. 

His children were no longer babes by then, cared for by the women that came before her, but they still warmed up quickly to her sunny smiles and nighttime lullabies. She thinks fondly now of the two boys playing with wooden swords and the pretty princess who loved to braid her hair, and eventually grew to love them as though they were her own children. Still, the looming threat never disappeared off the horizon.

Her position would forever be questioned as long as she had not shown her gratitude by gracing Khyun with a son. Desperate, Yongsuneith walked through all of Karnak, seeking Amun and his fertility graces, performing all of the sacred rituals devoted to the _Protector of the road_ like her duty of queen commands. 

She would put on her feathered crown to show herself as a goddess to the people, she would wear her best dresses and gladly present Amun her kingdom’s offerings for a prosperous year and victorious battles, but the god never answered her prayers. 

No matter how fervently she’d beg Amun on her knees in his temple to honor her with a child who would grant her the prestige she deserved at the court, the god would remain silent and cold. Dead to her scorching pleas. 

And although her maidens’ arms would often comfort her with words of solace, warnings of the curse chasing the 13th dynasty to its tomb, of how all the wives before her died in childbirth, Yongsuneith would continue to mourn her barren womb when she could make neither barley nor wheat grow and the lunar curse would make her bleed again. At last though, her old husband perished after a rather short reign sustaining his brother’s legacy.

Breathless in his sleep with no glorious campaigns on his belt, with no monuments to speak of his name, with nothing but debt and uprisings further leading the once-great empire on a road of decay, leaving Yongsuneith with no child to care for, no purpose to linger in the palace once his corpse was placed in the stone sarcophagus and the crypt sealed by his priests.

Still, she could not talk ill of the late pharaoh Khyun for she did care for him in a way one does for a king. Maybe he had been weak and spineless in his life as a king, corrupt and unfit to rule over a nation as wise and old as Egypt, but he had been kind and loving to his family and her juvenile heart pursuing romance under Hathor’s guidance appreciated every tender gesture. 

When they buried Khyun in the Valley, Yongsuneith feared she’d be banished from the court, sent to marry some other noble and waste her beauty with yet another old man. But Isis had mercy on her grieving and finally granted her a blessing, although it had not been the one she prayed for. Upon her step-son assuming the throne as his own, the royal council has been kind enough to name her queen regent entrusting her to rule alongside the crown prince Honamun, in spite of him being married in front of Amun to his sister Eunbini. 

However, Yongsuneith’s heart longed for more as she knew that as the queen mother, she would only temporarily sit by Honamun’s right until the princess will be deemed old enough to hold the royal vulture headdress on her elegant crown. Trapped in an hourglass, her time was running short through her fingers like sand in the desert and with every passing day, Eunbini grew more to be a beautiful young queen prepared to replace her. And after that, Yongsuneith could just as well throw herself at Ammit and let Anubis scale her heart for she did not know what would happen to her place at court.

The possibilities have haunted her for weeks on end, nightmares chasing her through a maze of darkness and sorrow as though she was trapped in the duat along the deceased pharaoh, searching for an escape and for Anubis to show her the way. When she would wake up in a bath of cold sweats, she knew the torment won't stop until she will be a legitimate queen again, the great wife of a pharaoh. 

Maybe if she used up all her tricks on Honamun, the prince would remarry her and her seniority would allow her to keep the crown she holds so dear, but she doubts her beguiling would have any effect and her efforts would much rather be appreciated by a cold statue in the temple of Amun. Not to mention, it would be incredibly difficult for her to make any moves on the prince since she’s watched him grow from a gangly tween to a handsome man and after all these years, the boy treats her like family. 

Not quite a mother, but an older sister for sure. Love could easily be overshadowed by fear though and for a while, she was guilty of contemplating a coup d’etat against her king, a military stage lead by Taekhotep that would assure her the throne and give the reigns of power to the general. 

Thankfully, the bloody civil war did not become a necessity as her troubles all but disappear one day when Isis turns once more a merciful eye on her pitiful frame, praying in the temples for her husband to reach the heavens safely from where he could watch over her and the kingdom. With Honamun in charge, Yongsuneith abandoned the dream of a unified kingdom and feared they would lose what little they have in Thebes to the foreign rulers. 

Every single day they lost territory and she feared the next time Taekhotep would return from a campaign with a decimated army, the invaders would knock on their doors. So the only thing left for a queen like her was to pray, pray for a better ruler, pray for wisdom, pray for someone to save her kingdom.  

And then, Sowadjet suddenly rushes to their side in the middle of supper with news from the Valley, announcing the crown prince that something unexpected happened when Sonkheyu went to replenish the offerings in his father’s tomb. Something that could only be described as the gods’ will, an epiphany none of them has ever known. 

They found two men already waiting for them, clad in strange attire, looking out of place and yet at home. Sonkheyu recognized one immediately though, despite his younger appearance and strange rejuvenation that brought back two decades to his otherwise handsome face.

“It is your father, my lord, the pharaoh Khyun. But now he has returned as Horus himself.” What an extraordinary thing to say, and even more bizarre to actually believe in, but Yongsuneith has immediately been convinced this was no trick of the desert, no illusion cast by demons, no strange dream clouding her mind. 

The living proof right in front of her eyes when Horus Khyun stood tall and proud reclaiming his throne. She held her breath the entire time, admiring his sharp jaw and high cheekbones and the smooth skin she didn’t quite know in the time they were married, but by the gods, she recognized her husband when she saw him. More beautiful than ever, his posture mighty and high, confident for he saw what no mortals had and returned as the king of the skies. 

Under his reign, Egypt shall be reunited once more and shine brighter than any other empire mankind ever saw, that Yongsuneith trusts with her entire heart from the moment Horus Khyun took back his crook and flail. And this time around, she will make sure to grant him an heir, someone he could forfeit his kingdom to one day, someone who she would care for and love with all her heart and not even Khyun’s children could take that away from her.

Enamored by the scenario and even more so by the newly revived pharaoh, Yongsuneith hunted any opening to catch her husband’s eye and sneak right back under Horus Khyun’s skin, to allow him a taste of the love he was addicted to in a previous life and properly welcome him home like a queen should. But the king bluntly ignored all her flirting, her mesmerizing perfume that turned everyone’s hands and even elicited a comical expression from Honamun, her gorgeous locks unmistakably let out of braids to seductively fall over her naked shoulders as she paraded herself around him. 

In all aspects but one, Yongsuneith turned herself into Hathor right before Khyun’s eyes, the _Mistress of Love_ and Horus’ most beloved companion and wife, an untamable lioness as wild and dangerous as she is gentle and loving. But despite all her efforts, all her tender touches and devoted gazes, Horus Khyun didn’t even allow his wife in the same bed and brutally dismissed her when Yongsuneith as much as tried to kiss him.

How was she to give Egypt an heir if her husband did not love her? There was only one person who could give her the answers she so desperately searched, and that person hid between the columns of the temple of Hathor. 

As Yongsuneith enters Karnak accompanied by the only servants she could trust, the women who have followed her into the palace from the temple of Dendera, Munbyulys and Hejineb stick close to their queen as she approaches with determined steps the core of the temple. Her hands grip tightly an elegant tray on which lay a tribute worthy for the _Lady of Contentment_ and her head is held high and proud careful not to let her crown topple over, but her heart is still shaken by Horus’ ruthless rejection. No matter how much the queen struggled to understand the man’s reasons, she simply could not fathom what changed inside of her beloved pharaoh while he traveled the Duat. And more importantly, how she can regain his good graces. 

“I expected you would come sooner or later,” the high priestess emerges from behind the statue of Hathor, her hair long and withheld with thousand golden clips, the kohl of her eyes dragged down her right cheek for protection. You could tell right away she served a feline goddess for the sparkle in her dark orbs, the mischievous glint that lured pray, tempting it with the promise of protection before it received the sweet kiss of death. Yongsuneith knows that very well for she was once just as the priestess before her.

“Hyodjine, please accept this offering in the name of our cosmic mother,” the queen beseeches in an unlikely manner that worries the two maids who’ve stayed quiet the entire road, completely eschewing formalities as they have all grown in the very same temple under the guidance of Hathor. Hyodjine examines the tray warily, not too keen on what her eyes lay on nor enthusiastic of what Yongsuneith is asking of her, her nose scrunched in a grimace, her mouth drawn in a thin line. 

Yet the queen is persistent, thrusting the tray in Hyodjine's direction and maintaining her tranquil appearance meant to resemble Isis from above. A mere subject wouldn't be able to remark all the dread and terror draining the color from Yongsuneith’s painted cheeks, but the priestess could see right through her, she could hear the goddess speaking to her in hushed warnings. 

“You have lost your minds, child,” she says after a pregnant silence, shaking her head and turning her back to the captured falcon whose wings, beak and legs were tied with rope and eyes were covered with a linen cloth. What Yongsuneith was asking of her is, without a doubt, a blasphemy that would and should upset all the gods. 

The falcon is a sacred animal, a sovereign of the skies betoken to protect Egypt from above, glorious and mighty and supreme in his reign, his croaking a warning of enemies approaching and his presence an omen of fortune. The royal palace was home to quite a few, their prestigious feathers finely gifted to the highest of scribes after decades of service for the pharaoh, and for Yongsuneith to have captured one so selfishly is a crime in itself, no matter her position of Great Wife. 

“This is the wrong place to look for divination, Yongsuneith,” Hyodjine warns, her figure further retreating in the seclusion of shadows but the stubborn queen follows, her tray a traitorous gift for the goddess and an unjust request of her friend. “I am no oracle, you know that very well.” 

The high priestess’ words fell on deaf ears though and despite their clear reluctance regarding their queen’s plans, the two maids are loyal to the bone and Hyodjine knows better than to count on Munbyulys and Hejineb talking some sense to their monarch. The gods are testing her and the mute statue of Hathor appears to be assessing her performance, sternly reminding her of the pledge she swore upon joining the temple. The same pledge Yongsuneith took once upon a time. 

“Please, Hyodjine, you’re my last hope. Horus has to love me again. All I am asking for is a little help from the greatest of wives herself, she would want her lord to be pleased and taken care of on his short sojourn in our world.” The falcon does not struggle in his bounds, he does not fight for liberation and Hyodjine guesses he already accepted his fate. How long had he been captured and held in submission by the queen before Yongsuneith finally made the decision to go through with this? 

The unsettling feeling in her guts warns Hyodjine that if she agrees to this, she risks more than becoming a ghoul in the Duat swallowed by the evil snake, she risks a punishment so cruel her name will be erased. And what is a person without their name? “Be careful, my queen.” The purr of Hyodjine’s voice does not phase Yongsuneith in the least, yet the sudden underlying agreement to the needed sacrifice awakens hope in her trembling heart. “You never know who answers your prayers and instead of love, you might trigger a war.” 

Yongsuneith laughs lightly, the threat of war so insignificant for their loomy times that she dismisses it without a second thought. She trusts Hathor more than any other deity and the goddess would not allow Sekhmet to unleash her wrath on them. 

“It is a risk I am willing to take,” she answers solemnly, a gentle whisper really, as she hands the tamed falcon to her old friend with the utmost grace so telling of a queen. Hyodjine still hesitates as the majestic bird compels her to verge upon certain damnation, his mute cry coaxing her to end this misery. She approaches the silver plate cautiously like a cat circling her trapped prey, glancing ever so often at the goddess watching over them, and wondering if invoking Hathor’s charms to help Yongsuneith could actually work. 

Sacrificing a falcon should be able to conjure enough divine power, but at what price. Opening portals to directly communicate with the gods can often lead to blindly inviting in your own home all sorts of demons and monsters from the underworld. A coin with two faces, Hyodjine wonders on which side her prayers will end. When she closes the distance to accept the tribute at last, Ra casts his golden rays on her amber skin and the high priestess all but glows in the morning glory of Hathor’s temple, a blinding jewel glinting from her navel. 

“You put us all in danger, Yongsuneith. May Hathor watch over our souls tonight.”

 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

 

In his very short time as the youngest director of Egyptian Antiquities, Kihyun held only one meeting of the Supreme Council on some issues that had to be addressed upon him being appointed in the top position. Although his title eluded a reputable and distinguished job, an exciting beginning to a new chapter in his life, he soon discovered it was nothing more than an over-glorified managerial post. Nonetheless, Kihyun still remembers years later the waves of anxiety washing over him that day, turning his palms sweaty and pushing his voice to crack like a prepubescent boy’s as he greeted his seniors with the simple request of being addressed as an equal. 

His former teachers had been, obviously, scornful at such a callous decision the higher-ups took without their assent, their wrinkled faces glaring not too subtly at the youthful man stripping them of such a desired chair. Kihyun is struck by the very same fear now, sitting down at the alabaster table and looking around at his royal councilors. He only recognizes Sonkheyu at first glance, the high priest trying to conceal his umbrage behind the mask of a humble servant, and his two sons, Honamun sitting on his left and Juhani standing proud behind his brother. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

The names of the others swirm around his head, like an odd sense of deja vu he’d often get walking down the campus’ roads among familiar faces who he’s probably noticed in one of his seminars but never paid enough attention to link them with a name. If he were able to concentrate, he could just grasp them but the tension in the room leaves him quite weak. It would be a safe guess though to assume that if the crown prince was on one side, the person to his right had to be the vizier, the highest official in the kingdom with a role not unlike a modern prime minister. 

The vizier would govern over Egypt, administer the court, supervise the construction of monuments and make sure the people are living well, handling all the trivial things below a pharaoh's highness and stature. Kihyun is surprised to see a woman when he turns his head, in fact, the only one at the table, with brown locks framing her noble face, scouring eyes and rich golden earrings signifying her might. Even though women and men were treated as equals in Ancient Egypt, the fact that one managed to get such an influential position was no small feat. As a general rule, viziers were appointed by the pharaoh out of their small circle of trusted people and were most likely members of the royal family as well. But Kihyun can tell this was not quite the case here.

“ _Tjaty_ Sowadjet,” the pharaoh’s grave voice echoes with the old title, capturing everyone’s attention and especially the vizier’s. “I trust you’ve taken care of my kingdom in my absence and helped my son bring prosperity to our people.” Despite being a feeble orator for most of his life, students talking over him during his classes and academicians ignoring his astonishing presentations, Kihyun has no problems imposing his stance at this table and making himself heard. 

Even Changkyun seated across from him looks mildly impressed by his composed attitude and earnest approach, a little smirk growing on his lips that, if Kihyun dared to say, looks like a sign of pride. It is reassuring to know at least his rival is for once on his side, especially since the councilors aren’t too enthusiastic about their king’s revival, clearly torn about the sudden turn of events and unsettled by it. The dead shall remain dead, Kihyun can understand that fear, and even in these days people are wary to believe such miracles existed – because they did not, the real king Khyun is long dead taken by Anubis to a place only the jackal knows. 

Sympathy is not too high on his agenda though when he can’t shake off the repulse this meeting urges out of him, as though he fell in a hole filled with slimy snakes just waiting for the perfect time to strike. He’s dealt with enough cobras for the day and he’ll make sure to clean Khyun’s court of such vermins, even if he has to retort to his new kitten for that. 

But more than anything, he feels indebted to the people of Egypt, abandoned for so very long by their leaders more concerned about shaping their own cult of personality that outshined their predecessor and lasted millennia. Even if their sojourn in this mystical world is just temporary, Kihyun will do everything in his power to eradicate the deep-rooted corruption, and since his powers are absolute he will make sure to use it for the good of many.

“Of course, my lord, your subjects are overjoyed and wealthier than ever now that you –” Sowadjet begins her sweet ramble with a smile, eager to report on her achievements as vizier but Kihyun raises his palm to silence her quickly. “Sowadjet, you know better than to lie to me.” The woman is taken aback by the abrupt critic, her eyes blown and mouth hanging slightly agape. It takes her a moment to recover. The pharaoh had never asked for the truth, not unless it's the one he wanted to hear – Egypt adored him, he was worshipped by thousands and they were all blessed to live under his command. 

“I have named you my chancellor for a reason so I expect the honest truth. Tell me, how are my people?” Kihyun urges, the grip on his flail strong, his jaw clenched. Could the kingdom's situation be so dire? Were they facing plagues and famine, were children dying on the streets? 

“They're hungry, my lord.” It is not Sowadjet who answers, but the man to her right. The black headdress and simple attire disclosed his rather humble upbringing, while his eyes circled with kohl, cold and piercing betrayed his intelligence. This is no noble, Kihyun remarks, once more surprised by the handful of people making up Khyun’s circle of trust. No noble but a man who built himself from nothing without asking for anything from others, a man whose brilliant mind won him one of the most important titles in the kingdom. 

“Great scribe Hanbini,” the pharaoh acknowledges with a curt nod, prompting the young man to speak, perhaps the youngest besides his two children. “Our grains are running short and it's only the dawn of _Akhet_ , the great Nile has just begun to flood us with his divine waters. If my calculations are accurate, we will not have enough to last until the next _Shemu_. Not unless our population is decimated before harvest by disease or cursed.” The terrible news escalates the already simmering tension in the chamber, Honamun fidgeting in his seat and Sowadjet avoiding to look her king in the eye. 

The pharaoh might be living once more but Egypt is visibly dying. No one appears pleased to hear that, but what have they done to prevent it. “Is there any chance for your forecast to be flawed, Hanbini?” Kihyun presses, idly rubbing his palms together. “My estimations are always precise to a fault, your majesty,” the scribe shakes his head with a certitude that heartens Kihyun to believe as much. 

“What about trade?” The question instantly jerks Sowadjet upright, her earrings dangling as she looks determined at Kihyun and replies, “We sealed a new deal with the province of Canaan, their hearty crops in exchange for rock and alabaster. It has cost us more than a fair price but we have plenty left for our own monuments to last for all eternity.” 

The confidence in Sowadjet's voice proved it had been no easy task to persuade the Canaanites into such an agreement, not when they did not lack marble and stone in the least to Kihyun's knowledge, which shows the vizier may be more proficient with her stratagem than Kihyun initially gave her credit. Good, he needs capable people and his instincts assure him of Sowadjet and Hanbini's talents, but he has yet to see where their loyalties truly lie. 

“Good, but it won't be enough. Taekhotep.” At the sound of his own name, the great general in command of the pharaonic troops grunts tiredly. His wide shoulders are sunken and the mauve pools below his orbits are not painted with kohl but a label of fatigue, letting Kihyun know the man has only recently returned from the battlefield with more scars than glory. 

And still, he held his head high with dignity for he is an honorable man willing to die for the crown. But which one, the pharaoh wonders, trying to see beyond the mysterious facade the general draped himself with, get through those impenetrable obsidian orbs that watch him ghostly. “I expect a full report about your latest expeditions, though I think it will be time to set off on another one very soon.” 

Taekhotep is hesitant to respond as such since the pharaoh has left the army entirely his to command, his to order when to depart on a new crusade or when to strike enemies without any trace of mercy on their bloodied faces, his to train and instruct the youth to mature into tough soldiers prepared to kill for Egypt. For King Khyun to suddenly be interested in his expeditions, Taekhotep has no doubt the spirit of Horus has a mighty influence on their pharaoh, one that will either raise their kingdom from the unfruitful sands or smash it completely into a grave. He hopes the resurrected god is as skillful a warrior as the legends make him be. 

“As you wish, my king.” Khyun looks pleased with the general’s allegiance and devotion as he can sense his turmoil has nothing to do with his own personal schemes, which is more than can be said about the other people sitting at the table.

“But before we embark on another campaign, I will hear my son’s request.” Honamun seems stumped when his father jerks his head in the prince’s direction, especially since he has not uttered a word about his intentions to anyone but Juhani in the privacy of their own quarters while the queen was mourning and Anubis priests were embalming the remains of their father. His brother has often stumbled with keeping secrets, even those that could endanger the both of them, yet he trusted Juhani not to bring up his schemes in front of their revived pharaoh, not until he makes sure this Khyun can truly be trusted.

“My request?” Honamun’s voice may sound shy, maybe even bashful to some extent, but Changkyun is able to distinguish the prince’s ulterior motives. He is a mercantile man for certain, one who never acts without some sort of strategy already drafted in his mind or without considering all the implications of his next move. In his years dealing on the black market, Changkyun faced a handful of such charlatans attempting to lure valuable information out of him and get to the treasure before his small gang of bandits. 

Out of everyone surrounding him, Changkyun’s hound nose warns him Honamun is the least trustworthy and the one he should keep an eye on. “Yes. Go ahead, ask me,” Kihyun urges the fidgeting prince, who clears his throat as the rest of the councilors eat him up with their vigilant gazes. 

“Before your return, I was contemplating the best way of taking back Lower Egypt,” Honamun discloses, eliciting a stream of murmurs from the vizier and high priest across from him, the outraged look on Sowadjet’s face speaking of betrayal as she was not informed of this. Hanbini doesn’t even bother to mimic some sort of shocked expression and Taekhotep only leans forward over the table to get a closer look at the men talking. 

Kihyun purses his lips, waiting for Honamun to divulge more but the prince stays quiet like a mouse in a library full of pergaments, unwilling to reveal his schemes in front of the council. So, there’s somebody here Honamun does not trust, Kihyun concludes, or maybe he trusts no one and especially not the resurrected Horus Khyun. “Contemplating won’t be enough, Honamun,” the pharaoh says after a long moment, five pairs of eyes turning to glare at his glowing frame as he rests back on his throne holding the scepters of power, reminding them all who truly owns the reigns now. 

Changkyun smirks a little, eyebrow twitching up as he too leans in curious as to what aces Kihyun’s got up his sleeve. He only really needs one trump card for he is, after all, for what the rest are concerned, the one and only Horus. “We need a concrete plan. I expect my sons, Taekhotep and Hanbini in two days time to do just that, and we shall discuss it again during our next council meeting.”

Before Sowadjet can object and interfere, argue how their nation is not prepared to go to war in their current state, above all not against their own people subjugated by the invasion of those foreign devils, Kihyun continues, the words pouring out of his mouth like the holy Nile itself cruised by the divine sun. “The enemy has mocked our name for far too long, we must recapture what is ours and never allow them to show their faces before Ra again. The delta is rich and affluent, its crops could feed us for years to come but we have to act promptly. When was the last time we paid them tribute, vizier Sowadjet?”

The brunette frowns and twirls a lock of her free hair that fell out of a braid, her rings clashing against the color of dark chocolate as she recounts their last payment, inspecting carefully a papyrus handed to her by the great scribe before the meeting. She stops at a certain line, the hieroglyph of an upside-down boat and three sticks answering Kihyun before the vizier clears her throat, “About three moons ago, sir.” 

Three months then, just enough for the Hyksos to expect a new disbursement in gold and goods, a settlement that would further carry Egypt into the depths of debt. He will have to discuss this matter privately with the great scribe and the vizier at a later time though, as opening such a sensitive topic in front of representatives of the church and military forces. 

“Then they will be awaiting the next one soon. If we don't send them the tribute, they’ll become suspicious and anticipate our next move – assuming they don’t decide to attack us in order to collect their amends. Therefore, see for the next tribute to be dispatched by the end of the week.” Sowadjet openly stares at her king as though Horus Khyun grew wings and a falcon head right before her eyes in that very council room, and perhaps in some way he had. 

Kihyun has never felt more sure of himself than in that moment, speaking to the council like a true rightful king to his subjects, planning on bringing Egypt its former shine no matter the cost. With all the golden courage flowing through his veins, Kihyun wouldn’t be surprised if he could actually fly on those azure skies and wear the sun disk on top of his head. The memory of the tomb played on loop in his mind, the battle with Horus permanently scarred on the back of his eyelids while he tried to analyze it from every possible angle. 

Could it be that the god passed on to him some of his own powers in that blue haze? Kihyun glances at Changkyun only to find the jackal impersonator already looking at him, quite intensely he might add. Did the other man notice something that escaped Kihyun’s perception? They must speak alone and far from all these people as soon as possible.

“This requires a longer discussion but first I wish to see my people again. They are waiting for me, I am sure,” Kihyun redirects the focus from the impending war against the Hyksos to a slightly more urgent matter that did not escape his mind. Nor did it escape the high priest’s, if the lecherous glint in the man’s dark orbs was any indication. Perfect, Kihyun will give him something to keep the priest busy and far, far away from himself. 

“High priest, Sonkheyu,” he calls the other, the way the priest stiffens at the sound of Kihyun’s voice almost comedic were he to ignore all the red flags this counselor had waving around his person. “I trust you to organize a festival for my new coronation.” The sour expression on Sonkheyu’s face lingers only briefly, but long enough to stir a few chuckles at the table muffled behind fits of cough and an amused smirk from Changkyun. The priest is definitely not content to orchestrate the preparations necessary for such a grandiose event, even though festivals and such ceremonies befall under his duties as Lord of Karnak. 

“...Yes, my king,” he concedes at last. Kihyun nods satisfied, then takes the time to look each of his counselors directly in the eye, a subtle trick to impose himself as the new acting regent and establish his authority in front of his most important subjects. The pharaoh might have been dead before, but he is certainly not dead-beat now. 

“Good,” Horus Khyun dares to give a little smile, that in turn encourages Juhani to show his own deep dimples so foreign of a merciless commander. Honamun still appears hesitant to trust his father figure though, in spite of kneeling before Kihyun and abdicating just a night ago without seemingly much thought. Out of all the snakes, the beautiful, inoffensive heir is certainly the most dangerous, and Kihyun is wary of what that mind can conceive. 

“I think this will be all for now, it is good to see you well.” Sowadjet forces a smile, but Kihyun prefers Taekhotep and Hanbini's dreary cold gazes, at least they were genuine and reflected the same vacant obsidian as the vizier's rimmed irises. “Are there any other issues at hand for now?” The question lingers for a moment, circles the room and returns unanswered before Kihyun finally lets go of his throne and sets to return to his chambers. Hopefully, he won't find any other poisonous vipers in waiting. When the pharaoh steps hinder beneath the archway cutting access to a great hallway not far from the throne room left unattended, Sonkheyu reacts instantaneously sprinting to his feet. 

“Your majesty,” he calls out, his crooked voice chilling to Changkyun's ears, like nails scratching a chalkboard. “We still have to discuss your new coronation, but more importantly, Lord Anpu’s role at your court.”

Out of all possible things to bother Sonkheyu, Changkyun receiving a bigger room than him shouldn't have made the cut in Kihyun's opinion, yet the priest barely conceals the hateful glare directed at the jackal god. “His presence is unsettling our servants, they are scared of all the plagues and pestilence that his tail drags inside our palace.” Necrophiles were not welcomed in Ancient Egypt any more than they are in the present world, yet they found some good use of their disturbing interests by worshipping the Lord of the Dead and of Embalmers, the god who guides priests in one of the most important rituals. 

The stigma surrounding the followers of the underworld dog is deeply rooted in Egyptian culture despite their essential role for society, so when Sonkheyu raises such concerns, neither Kihyun nor Changkyun are too surprised. The priests of Anubis and embalmers especially were greatly persecuted by people from all social blankets, marginalized and ostracized because no one wanted to be around a person who smelled like the dead, even if the scent of oils and sacred salts were not unpleasant. 

“I am not here to take anyone’s soul,” Changkyun huffs, partly annoyed and partly anxious as to what sort of influence the high priest of Amun might have over Karnak and Thebes. 

It is no secret the Middle Kingdom ended marked by a strange oblique shift in power, leaving pharaohs nameless and forgotten in the Valley while viziers and priests roamed the most luxurious tombs and palaces, having a much greater role for Egypt than the king himself. Could it be that it all started with someone as vile as Sonkheyu? Would Sowadjet be enough of a snake to betray her king and join the priest in his revolution? 

Annoyance slowly turns into anger and when Sonkheyu dares to speak to him all high and mighty like the god Amun appointed him in person to be at the very table separating them, Changkyun can barely contain himself from reaching for the gun he’s hidden well beneath the layers of linen wrapped around his waist. “But people can’t know that for sure. Jackals, as helpful as they are guarding our tombs, remain beasts who feast on cadavers. And this is what our people will expect the more Lord Anpu will be seen around the court, they’ll expect to be turned into cadavers and devoured by ruthless beasts.” 

The smothering tension between the councilors amplifies drastically and even the immovable Hanbini appears ready to bolt far away from the crime scene, while Taekhotep jitters preparing to break off a possible fight. Kihyun holds his breath as Changkyun slowly steps away from the table and approaches Sonkheyu, darkness overtaking his whole frame and fire burning wildly in his eyes.

“Death befalls on all of you once you're destined to join Osiris, priest. Or to have your heart burst in black flames that will consume every last drop of your pathetic soul until no one dead or living remembers your name.” A decade separates Kihyun from the shy boy he met at university, the one drowning in long hoodies or oversized sweaters and whose sleeves were always hanging idly by his side, but looking at Changkyun now, he is unrecognizable. 

Long gone is the quiet boy who lurked behind him in the library and hesitantly asked to borrow his dictionary for one of their classes. Kihyun knows several of the things that hardened Changkyun’s heart so, witnessing and being guilty of a few himself. He’s heard him speak harsh words, he’s seen him curse like a drunken sailor or picking up fights in a pub, he’s even had the younger looking him down at gunpoint. But the deep frightening voice coming out of his mouth is unlike any tone Kihyun deemed possible of Changkyun, for this no longer was his rival and old friend. Before them stood Anubis himself. 

“I am curious what it would be for you when I come to reap your soul.” A simple blow of wind could knock Sonkheyu down in a coffin when Changkyun’s threat hits him in the face like a poisonous whisper. 

Kihyun clenches the crook in his fist, terrified at the idea of battling another god if Anubis truly took over Changkyun at that moment, but moreover determined to get the other man out of here before a real quarrel broke out between him and the Amun priest. “I am going to ask one last time. Are there other issues?” 

The silence he’s met with is not unlike the tomb they escaped from a lifetime ago and, thankfully, Changkyun takes the cue to stand by Kihyun’s side and away from the shaking Sonkheyu. Just before they can leave the council table behind and move towards the dazzling light of the courtyard waiting on either side of the hallway, Sonkheyu finds the courage to utter one last threat. “What you’re doing, pharaoh, will anger the gods! Your quest to conquer Lower Egypt shall fail as the gods themselves decided to split our kingdom and no mortal can change that!” 

The priest realizes the grave mistake he’s committed as soon as the words leave his mouth, terror creeping hastily up his spine when hawk eyes narrow down on him ready to pulverize his insignificance into the ground. “You dare speak for us when we are standing right here?” the pharaoh booms, the wrath of Horus seeping in his blood with devastating force, the red blinding his vision cruelly, prompting even Changkyun to throw him a worried look. 

“May I remind you, high priest, I am not just your pharaoh. I am Horus.” That very last word shakes the ground beneath their feet with such a magnitude Sonkheyu falls defeated on the floor, his figure fading into a corner trembling from all joints. And he is not alone, Hanbini and Sowadjet have unconsciously inched closer in fear of their king in spite of their notorious dislike of each other, and the two princes stare in disbelief at their father. 

Only Taekhotep maintained his calm in the middle of the storm, his face creaseless like waves of the river, the expression of a man who’s faced death more times than he can count. Sonkheyu begins to apologize, stuttered phrases barely passing by his chattering teeth and tongue halting in between mumbles on incomprehensible gibberish. Horus Khyun dismisses him though with a jolt of his flail, an order of silence and a call for the priest to find his lost dignity buried somewhere underneath his feet. 

“If you like the way your head is attached to your body, priest,” Kihyun’s sweet lull is nothing but absolutely petrifying as he makes a point to avoid the man’s name, “I shall wake up in a week’s time with an obelisk that tells of my great adventures returning to save your forsaken souls.” Exiting a room in a strut has never felt as powerful. 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

 

In spite of his little show earlier, Kihyun felt so very weak when he collapses on his throne desperately hoping to be left alone. No queens trying to seduce him – or stab him in his sleep, no magical beasts sneaking up on him planning to slash his heart out of his ribcage, no councilors plotting for his demise. He won’t be able to rest for too long though, having already planned a long day of private meetings until dawn and then a royal dinner on top of it where he’ll have to face Yongsuneith once more, as well as Honamun’s suspicious gazes. 

Kihyun doesn’t look forward to any of that but it must be done as part of the duties entrusted to him along with the scepter of was. For a nation so proud of their religious beliefs, the pharaoh hardly had any peace of mind for prayer or meditation and Kihyun is starting to figure out why these kings went mad with power and disillusioned by the idea of sanctity. He rubs at his temples idly, willing a migraine to go away, head clouded by dark visions. His nightmare never really left his thoughts, and now that he is here, sitting on the throne, he almost expects a giant snake to burst through the gates and eat the sun.

It is not another snake that attacks him though, on the contrary, a soft meowth warns Kihyun of his protector’s blessing and when he looks down, he finds the little ball of black fur fawning against his bare leg, her fur tickling his skin. “My little fighter,” he coos at the kitten and reaches down to brush his fingers over her curled spine, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long while. He used to take care of a stray cat back home, her fur a muddy shade of brown and with a distinctive white fleck over her right ear. His apartment’s window was often let open and despite living on the second floor, the cat still managed to sneak up to him and demand food and cuddles with adorable mewls. On bad days, Kihyun would let her sit in his lap and pet her for hours until his never missing tea went cold. 

Maybe he could ask a servant to bring him some tea, but he’s pretty certain the Egyptians didn’t venture south enough to discover the wonders of rooibos. “You deserve a royal reward for saving me, don’t you?” Kihyun smiles and scratches behind the cat’s ears, taking joy in how the feline becomes a purring machine. He’s curious if the cat already belonged to somebody, perhaps the dreamy princess who still hasn’t spoken a word to him and only resorted to giving him this big glassy-eyed look. The cat continues to rub herself around Kihyun’s calf, curt meows letting the pharaoh know just how much she yearns his undivided attention. “You’re a bit spoiled, aren’t you?” 

He bends down to pick up the kitten off the marbled floor but as soon as his hands touch the black fur, the cat springs out of his reach, dashing to hide behind a pillar scrawled in hieroglyphs. Kihyun blinks confused, tilting his head to the side trying to spot the fugitive but even when he reluctantly parts with the hard yet strangely comfortable throne, the cat seems to have vanished completely, determinedly ignoring his childish calls to come back. “Where could she go,” he mutters under his breath, circling the turquoise pillar sustaining the ceiling above his head. The sun reached the zenith of midday, illuminating the entire chamber through the vault with bright rays of celestial fire, the intensity making Kihyun scrunch his nose in discontent and shield his vision from the spears of light. 

Still no black cat in sight. No black cat,  just a woman draped across the golden armchair, her hair straight falling like rain on her back, golden beads hanging at the ends of her bangs. Her eyes are yellow, slinted, watching Kihyun with the same warmth a cat looks at her silly kittens making their first steps into the world. Her curves are accentuated by the red dress just poured on her frame and held up by two crossed strings, adorned with blue topaz and gold. The bareness of her chest flusters Kihyun, even though he’s seen his ‘wife’ in even less clothing earlier that day, so he tries to focus his eyes on the turquoise collar instead, not much different from his own. “Who are you?” the pharaoh all but gasps in front of the goddess revealed before him.

The feline woman smiles, her red tinted lips arching until a sharp fang pokes out, the radiant shine of the room turning her irises in tiny slits. She twirls over the armrest her legs had been prompted on with a grace that cannot be equaled by a mere human, the sway of her hips as she approaches Kihyun making the silk’s subtle pattern of golden scales distinguishable. “I am Bastet, protector of Ra,” the cat goddess purrs, trilling the sun disk’s name and reminding Kihyun of the black kitten he was looking for in the first place. It takes a bit to sink in, but the realization that another deity has descended to Earth rattles Kihyun’s short lived peace of mind. The first time he met a god, three people were killed. The second time, he found himself propulsed back in the past. He doesn’t trust his luck at this point to believe the third would go much smoother.

Bastet remarks his concerns, her sharp eyes immediately taking notice of how Kihyun goes rigid, his shoulders stiff and posture prepared to flee. Or fight, whichever instinct kicks in first. But the cat goddess has long since put down her spear, the _sistrum_ her only weapon to restore harmony and wellness in the world. She has not come here to fight the human, nor does she plan to fight at all but someone must. “I come to warn you, pharaoh.” Nothing good has ever been disclosed with a warning, but Kihyun is willing to listen to someone whose powers could probably crush him to tiny dust particles, especially since the gravity of Bastet’s voice called for something darker, something more dangerous. She is also scared, Kihyun understands, but of what?  

“The gods are angry and Ra is weak,” Bastet says with evident mourning as though the sun has set for the very last time, even though their world is still vivid with light. “They can’t understand his will or why that deathly mutt chose to bring you here.” The words only further confuse Kihyun’s bewildered mind as he tries to put together the puzzle pieces scattered all over the sands of Egypt. Still, it is difficult not to crack a laugh at the slander addressed to Anubis, the rivalry absolutely hilarious for a historian like him. Cats and dogs have really hated each other since the dawn of time. But what was that about Ra’s will? Was the sun god himself involved in this bizarre kidnapping? Before he can ask anything at all, the cat continues to divulge more secrets from the realm Kihyun considered a collective work of fiction as of late. Folklore, nothing more. Except they are all so very real goosebumps awaken on his skin whenever he remembers Anubis' conviction. _Their mission._

“Osiris is also upset you’ve broken the rules of death.” Gone is his amusement upon hearing the name of the Lord of the Dead, shivers running down Kihyun’s spine. He’d like to postpone his meeting with Osiris for as long as possible or any sort of final judgment for that matter, but given the strange storm he’s unwillingly become the eye to, the pharaoh is aware walking along the Hall of the Two Truths will occur sooner rather than later. There are so many questions smashing against his skull, so many things he’d like to ask the goddess if she is so kind to answer him, so many mysteries he cannot get behind. Too stunned to formulate a single coherent sentence, Kihyun doesn’t dare to disturb Bastet and keeps listening like a mute. “You have profaned a tomb, your friends have stolen the dead’s treasures, and Horus rightfully awakened to revenge his descendants. But despite the slim chances of you human even surviving, you actually managed to defeat the greatest warrior of all times. Call me impressed.”

The praise brings another flush to Kihyun’s cheeks and he averts his eyes down – oh, _wait_ , pierced nipples, holy cat. A sharp claw raises his chin up, reminding Kihyun he is, in fact, facing a deity and no ordinary woman, which requires dignity and respect, if not downright veneration and obedience. That being said, Bastet’s eyebrow twitching cannot be a good sign for him. “Horus might have lent you some of his divine strength for the hardships that are to come, but the key to your success lies here,” the beauty hisses, clawed finger poking above Kihyun’s left pectoral. For a second, Kihyun worries she will either break through his bronze armor or spit out a ball of fur, but fortunately, neither scenarios takes place. “You mean, in my heart?” he parrots dumbly, fearfully eying that claw like a knife. It is clear as day that the goddess needed no weapons whatsoever to tear his limbs apart with her bare hands. Thankfully, Bastet is known as a tamed deity, a protector against evil spirits and disease. 

“Precisely so.” The pharaoh is unable to hold back a sigh of relief when the cat puts some distance between the two of them, nose wrinkled as though she suddenly detected a foreign smell. “Your journey won’t be easy but you have to help Ra before Apophis poisons us all with his vile hissing.” _Apophis_. The god of chaos and destruction, the evil snake who intends to swallow the world whole and let darkness consume it to the core until there’s nothing left but rotten bodies and lakes of fire inhabited by demons. The snake from his dream. Suddenly, the bigger picture begins to take shape, lines wombly but clear, colors hazy yet murky. He can almost hear the giant serpent crawling against the palace’s floors, its venomous tongue hanging out and spilling poison upon everything living. It’s getting closer and a chill overtakes Kihyun’s body when he can actually hear the familiar seething. 

He first feels those slimy scales then he sees the black cobras wrapped around his ankles, baring their teeth as they squeeze and squeeze and _squeeze_ , effectively cutting off his blood circulation and making him lose his balance. Knocked to the ground, the pharaoh tries to shake the vermins off his body, a futile attempt when his limbs are turning blue and numb and he can’t even move his toes, and worst of all, two more cobras raise from the crackled marble and crawl towards his terrified face. Such a vital symbol for the Egyptian culture, raised and born out of the goddess Wadjet, the lady of Lower Egypt, and yet cobras certainly seem to hate the man they are meant to protect – or they’ve been sent by someone else, someone whose authority surpasses the king’s, someone who benefits from his death. Someone like Apophis. 

Despite the impending danger, Bastet stands idly by Kihyun’s side, not moving a muscle to the rescue while a serpent wraps himself around the man’s throat, preparing to asphyxiate him. Shock paralyzed Kihyun altogether and even his mind seems to stand still until he feels something burning in his chest, blasting fire in his blood and releasing the fury caged in his heart. Wrath. _Vermins, know my wrath_ , Horus shouted at them in the tomb before attacking and Kihyun feels inundated by the urge to destroy his enemies, the ones who dare harm Egypt itself by attacking its king. The snakes continue to slither their way up his body, now seven in total clinging to his limbs, wrapped around his middle, trying to throttle his very last breath. Their eyes are glowing purple and their hissing seems to shake the walls engraved with spells of protection and abundance, yet the statues of Horus guarding the throne are unyielding. And so is Kihyun as he manages to free his hand and reach for the dagger wrapped around his thigh beneath the heavy armor. 

Immune to the monstrosity of the demonic hydras, Kihyun slices their heads off one by one until they fall like ropes around him, the same weapon that shattered the avenger god saving his life once more. Liberated from the scaly shackles, he jumps back up to his feet and backs away from the dead serpents, wide eyes shifting between the bloody mess on his glorious floors and the golden blade blessed by the Nile. He can see the sun’s reflection in it, right beneath a speck of black venom. This once, he needed no one to burst in and save him from the beasts sent to haunt him. This once, he’s surrounded by a heroic glow that matches the painting of Horus on the wall behind the throne. Bastet gives a proud purr at his triumph, her hand stopping in midair as she brings it closer to her mouth. Was she going to...lick it? “Very well, pharaoh. Very well,” the goddess smiles, soft yet cattish. 

“Was this your idea of a test?” he spits out, anger still consuming his entire being and making him forget exactly who he’s addressing. Being assaulted by devilish creatures with killing intents does that to you. Bastet doesn’t pay much mind to the lack of manners though, her reaction placid, if not quite sassy when she rolls her eyes to the back of her head. “You think I would go anywhere near snakes, human? I may enjoy hunting the little demons once a generation when they rebel and try to bite one of you, but I’d rather not touch those scales if I get the choice.” She sounded genuinely disgusted to Kihyun’s surprise, even repulsed by the idea of getting her hands dirty with such things, and although her gaze earlier was full of compassion and what he assumed to be motherly affection, Kihyun can’t imagine the goddess actually guarding the pharaohs. She looks too spoiled and selfish, incapable of any altruistic gestures that do not benefit her in some way. Just like the black kitten meowing and begging for his entire attention. 

“Wait, you’re the one that saved me! You’re my cat!” Kihyun gasps, the realization hitting him like a wall of bricks crumbling on top of his head. Oh lords above, he’s actually used his embarrassing baby voice and cooed at the black cat and even called her spoiled not knowing it was Bastet disguised all along. The goddess only crosses her arms prideful, the move bringing even more emphasis to her generous bosom and flustering Kihyun furthermore. He wishes she could wear a dress that concealed more, if only so he wouldn’t fear for his life whenever his eyes slipped. “I am no one’s cat, pharaoh,” Bastet huffs annoyed, eyebrow once again twitching. “But yes, I am Bastet,” she continues, inspecting her clawed manicure with nonchalance as though her name alone shall explain the reasoning behind her actions. “You protect pharaohs,” Kihyun whispers, slowly putting it all together. “Then you must see me as a pharaoh,” is the only conclusion the scholar can come up with from their odd interactions. 

The warm smile returns to Bastet’s face, a subtle purr vibrating from her chest – or is that the sound of her rattle? She struts with elegance towards him, hips swaying side to side and dress swishing with each move in a true display of the origins for the word catwalk. Her palm comes to rest on his cheek, thumb rubbing the slight stubble almost lovingly, the gesture swelling Kihyun’s heart with a strange sensation. It’s comforting, having Bastet so close to his person and touching him so gently, healing the soreness of the past days. An intoxicating perfume plunders his spirit, exotic spices and myrrh mixing together to create a divine bouquet worthy of the goddess who gave them scented oils. “The others don't, my kitten.” The affectionate pet name leaves Kihyun perplexed, staring dumbly in the feline irises poaching through his soul, seeking justice and order. Bastet appears pleased with what she finds. 

“So beware,” again with that ominous tone Kihyun detests from the pits of his heart. “Apophis may have begun with Seth, but all gods will eventually come down to test your worth. And I cannot help you. Not without risking more than anyone can afford.” How encouraging, Kihyun wants to cry but remains silent, a brave mask pinned to his face like iron. At least he knows now not to look further for traitors attempting to murder him in his sleep when the god of storms and violence is the one sending vipers to his bed. Great, just _great_. Mortals want him dead, immortals want him dead, and at worst he is also stuck in this forsaken time with none other than Im Changkyun. Bastet seems to slide with him though, in spite of trying to save face by preserving her impartiality in this war.

“I see,” he heaves a sigh, “How am I supposed to prove myself though?” Honestly, Kihyun could not phantom any of the gods deeming him worthy – of what, he has no idea but obviously not to rule over Egypt. Bastet might be a hidden ally, but the memory of Horus trying to murder him and Hyunwoo is vivid enough for Kihyun to be cautious around Egyptian deities. He is a scholar, for Osiris’ sake, not a fighter, he’s never been one. And still, fate threw him in this whirlwind where not only does he have to lead an expedition against the Hyksos to appease his sons’ wishes, but also survive a war against the omnipotent deities angered he claims to be one of them. Maybe he should actually blame it all on Anubis, that mutt who hasn’t shown his face since he abducted them from King Chae’s empty coffin. Still,  Kihyun is not eager enough to hope for a reunion with the jackal. If he hopes for anything besides finding his way back home, it is to never cross paths with any other gods. Bastet’s appearance in his palace indicates otherwise.

“Just like you did in front of my king, impressing Horus enough for him to grant you his power.” Kihyun blinks stupefied, although the cat has already mentioned the sky god lending him some of his strength. That would explain certain things, Kihyun ponders, like the strange blue haze that blinded him after he destroyed the statue of Horus, or like he seems to be able to anticipate people’s motives. Like he can feel right now Honamun wishes to speak to him but doesn’t dare to approach his resurrected father. Clairvoyance was another one of Horus’ many, many gifts. Could that mean his dream wasn’t simply a nightmare, but a vision of the future? Will Apophis attack Thebes? “You know about the tomb,” is all he can muster to say to Bastet, who gives him an amused grin in return. “I am a goddess,” she says with long pauses between each words, as though Kihyun has trouble comprehending that. In some way, he does. “I live beyond time, pharaoh. Everything has already happened and is happening at once.”

Atemporality. What a strange concept he can’t even begin to unpack, order and linearity are two ideas he’s held very dear as a historian, and yet Bastet challenges his very profession. How could history exist when events in the past take place at the same time with his present. How can he still claim there is such a thing as a present when he’s surrounded by ancients. The throne chamber suddenly darkens, the light dimmed like someone just blew on the torch of the sky and sent the sun to sleep. Instinctively, Kihyun looks up at the vault in the ceiling, only to notice the moon overlapping the star, protruding the heavens and imposings its misty glow over Egypt. A total eclipse. “We don’t have much time,” Bastet hisses at the bad omen and Kihyun can tell she did not predict the celestial crisis either. Ra’s powers are growing weaker each day and darkness is slowly taking advantage to creep into the world. 

“When the time comes, you will face the greatest battle of your life, king Khyun,” the cat goddess proclaims solemnly, formally assigning Kihyun a task way too heavy for him to carry. “Whether you raise up to the challenge or not will affect us all. Mortals, gods, the universe Amun created.” Finally, Kihyun lets his shoulders drop, huffing an aggravated breath. “No pressure whatsoever. The fate of existence depends on me and if I can’t defeat Apophis, the end of the world is coming.” 

Bastet shakes her head, not amused in the least. “The end is not coming, Kihyun.” That is the first time she uses his actual name. It terrifies him. “The end is already here.” And he is supposed to be the hero to this story. _The adventure of his lifetime_. Kihyun wishes he could skip to the part he’s having tea and biscuits with his dead granny in heaven. The cat goddess leans closer once more, both her palms pressed against his cheeks. It soothes Kihyun’s nerves in an instance, and the cool of aloe vera alleviates the burning angst building up inside his chest. “Ra trusts you, Kihyun. And he trusted Anubis to bring you and your friend here,” Bastet whispers, resting her forehead against Kihyun’s in prayer. It feels nice, no, it feels beyond heavenly and Kihyun wishes the goddess would never stop using her magical powers to calm his fears. 

It ends all too soon to his liking, but when Bastet straightens her back and lets go of him, Kihyun is a new man. Rejuvenated, reinvigorated, reborn. He still doesn’t believe he is prepared for any of the storms he will have to face, but he is determined to confront everything with dignity and his head held up high. He will not allow the double crown to fall amidst the dust of Saharian desert. Bastet sees the change within him without batting an eyelash and she drags her palm one last time through his brown locks, ruffling his hair for good luck. “Go take a bath, Khyun. You smell like that dog.” And as though she was never there, Bastet vanishes right before Kihyun’s eyes. 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

 

Kihyun finds Changkyun lounging in the courtyard on the stone bench by the small pond underneath a date palm, gaze lost somewhere in the distance. He approaches the man slowly but makes sure his steps are loud enough for Changkyun to detect his presence and not be startled when Kihyun occupies the seat next to him. His rival makes no move to escape other than a slightly irritated sigh and purposefully avoiding looking at Kihyun. With his eyes closed and bangs hanging over his face, Kihyun can recognize traces of a man who was his friend. Of a man who sparked a queer heat in his core many years ago. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” the pharaoh says softly, watching the breeze blow the long leaves above his head. It’s been a really long day for both of them, probably. He’s just finished discussing all the financial issues concerning the kingdom with the great scribe, the complicated tax system completely disconcert and too entangled for his modern mind, and he had to promise Sowadjet he will take a look over her plans for the new bazaar first thing in the morning to get out of her grips. Taekhotep has also struggled to summarize his latest expeditions east of Nubia, but it will take them more than one meeting to go through all the events that happened during those three months the general was away from the capital. Worst of all though, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate and pay attention to the people meant to guide him, the people chosen to give him advice on how to reign over his land, Kihyun could only think of Changkyun. 

Well, that statement is not entirely fair, because he wasn’t thinking just of the younger per se.

For the past few hours, while his councilors were beyond respectful, filling in their duties and accounting for what King Khyun has supposedly missed in the sixty days since his death, Kihyun was busy pondering over whether he should tell Changkyun about his conversation with Bastet or not. They agreed to be a team – of sorts – partners against their will, and as partners, they shall share every important detail that might help them return home. Confusing a goddess for a newly adopted kitty sounds pretty important to him and they can’t afford to hide anything from each other from now on if they are to survive another day. Changkyun is not too eager to join forces though, inching farther from Kihyun and scoffing at his light remark. “And why so?” he asks, unimpressed.

Kihyun bites at his lips, bidding a smile away. It is not the place nor time to get sentimental over brief moments of deja vu, over splits of seconds that send him back in a different past where a whiny Changkyun refused to acknowledge his presence for failing to be at the library in time. “You always liked lurking in the shadows,” the brown haired says, reminiscing. “Hiding from people and studying them from afar. You were quite good at that, if I can say so. Managed to nail their characters pretty spot on.” Changkyun looks up, eyes slightly wide at the unexpected details, a light rosy color rising to his cheeks. Kihyun tries not to stare at the unfamiliar sight or dwell too much on the pout on Changkyun’s lips. 

“Yeah, well,” the other clears his throat quite awkwardly, adjusting the weight of his leopard pelt on his shoulder. Kihyun questions how he is not boiling by now with that fur in this weather when he is utterly melted beneath his bronze tunic. History lessons don’t prepare you for such hostile work conditions. “It’s not at people that I’m looking now.” A pleasant whiff slashes the space between the two, bringing them closer. Changkyun avoids Kihyun’s gaze again, yet it’s not the clear surface of water that he watches vexed but the darkened heavens. The black clouds of yesternight brimming rains and storms may be gone, but the moon is still blocking the sun’s otherwise noxious shine. 

“The eclipse,” Kihyun nods, dismissing any playfulness and taking the serious situation as it is, sober and clear-headed. Changkyun mumbles something like agreement, eyebrows furrowed as he examines closely the unusual event, searching to understand beyond the illusions dispersed by Khonsu. Eclipses aren’t as rare of an occurrence as people used to believe, the astrophysicists of their ages have already proven that multiple times, but the disappearance of the sun could signify calamities and disasters of unimaginable proportions. And for people whose culture revolves solely around the solar disk and his fertile powers, an eclipse is nothing short of doom day for the Egyptians, of AmunRa turning his back to them. Of Apophis swallowing the sun. The end of the world. 

“I've heard your scribe freak out about it earlier,” Changkyun says at last when his eyes hurt from staring for so long at the sky. He mentally scolds himself, as a man of science he should know better than to look directly at the sun, even during an eclipse. A curious one at that, lasting hours upon hours with no hint of receding. “Something about consulting the astronomers and how the stars never lied to him.” Hanbini looked actually horrified, but not by the eclipse itself as much as by how far off his calculations turned out to be. Figures a man like him would study astronomy as well, and judging by the blueprints Changkyun saw the scribe carry around, he might very well be the royal architect too. If Hanbini proves to be a doctor on top of it, Changkyun won't be too surprised if he turned up to be the man egyptologist later named Imhotep. Although, Imhotep did live in the Old Kingdom and built the very first pyramid, but then again, Changkyun saw stranger things happen lately. 

“It is a strange occurrence,” Kihyun agrees, knowing very well this was no ordinary eclipse, not with Bastet's warning and all the snakes slithering in the mud under his feet. He knows better than to ignore such clear signs. "I suppose they believe it’s an omen." Now comes the real question, was the eclipse just another link in the chain of events that brought them here or was it the reaction of another deity they've angered with their pretenses of godhood? Could it foretell their next challenge or was this a prediction of Ra losing his battle against the evil snake, alone with only his trusted champion Sekhmet by his side? “We are an omen too,” Changkyun shrugs, answering Kihyun's worst fears. Nothing can be looked over as a coincidence anymore, everything is part of a bigger scheme. Ra's plan. 

Bastet made it sound like his role will be crucial in the turn of events but Kihyun can’t imagine himself as some sort of ace defeating evil. It is true he does enjoy the attention and being in the spotlight, especially if it comes as a consequence to his impressive research and contribution to the world of Egyptology. But fighting, leading others, being brave – those never crossed his list of vast interests. “Except we are not,” the pharaoh says faking certainty and denying his assigned fate as the ruler entrusted to save the world from chaos. Or be the one they’d blame if he lets it collapse in ruins. Changkyun doesn’t look impressed by his efforts though. “For them we are. So maybe that eclipse is just as inoffensive as us.” Kihyun doubts that somehow as much as he’d like to believe the black circle harboring on top of the sun is not connected to Anubis dumping them in these turbulent times, as much as he’d like to believe Bastet was wrong about Ra choosing them as his new defenders of Ma’at. “Do you truly believe so?”

There’s an itch in his left shoulder that Changkyun desperately tries to ignore, a minor effect normal for a healing wound but pestilent nonetheless. Much like his rival, insisting on having this conversation that leads nowhere. “No,” he admits quietly. Ever since the moon overtook the sun, Changkyun has been recalling bits and pieces of his meeting with Khonsu yet he can’t think back at what the god told him. He only remembers how his blood froze in his veins and how the fire in the chimney was blown out by the moon’s immense cold. The eclipse has also brought a similar chill, albeit not as terrible, just enough to make Changkyun suspicious of Khonsu being responsible for the veil. “How is your arm?” Kihyun asks instead, seeing that Changkyun is not in the mood to talk about the weather. 

At first, Kihyun wonders if the other man didn’t hear him since he takes so long to give any sort of reaction, face stoic and eyes riveted upon a pigeon’s nest under the roof of a gazebo. Was he perhaps glaring at the poor bird? Kihyun clears his throat, if only to dismiss the awkward silence, and the sounds seem to anchor Changkyun back to reality as he suddenly turns towards Kihyun and confronts him for the first time since the council gathering. “Healed,” he mumbles, a genuinely confused pout on his lips. Kihyun tries his best not to smile. “It’s weird,” Changkyun continues, voice hoarse after not using it for so long. “This is the worst wound I’ve ever been inflicted, yet it’s completely closed in less than a day. No stitches, no drugs, just some herbal ailments from the embalmers.” 

“A little help from your guard dog, eh?” The joke earns Kihyun a nasty glare along with a hefty punch in the arm that might bruise later. He doesn’t give Changkyun the satisfaction of wincing in pain though and continues to laugh at the pissed expression on the younger’s face, which again, earns him more punches. “He is not my guard dog,” Changkyun grits through his teeth, clearly disturbed being associated with the jackal god, or maybe just uneasy talking about the one who has the formidable power of turning them into mummies in the blink of an eye. Kihyun enjoys this, however, even if he it meant becoming Changkyun’s punching bag. it’s been years since he could crack jokes with the other. And it’s just so pleasant to share the exact same sense of humor with someone, something he missed dearly in the decade Changkyun had been painfully absent. “That's right,” he smirks and there’s a tiny tug in the corner of Changkyun’s mouth. It’s all the encouragement Kihyun needs for now. “He is Horus’ guard dog. Which in turn makes you mine.”

 _Oh_.

Silence. Neither man dares to speak a single word, an agonizing wall of ice falling on the stone bench and separating them again. The spark of banter vanishes from Changkyun’s black orbs and Kihyun’s heart throbs terribly with the knowledge he pushed the joke too far. This is no longer some light bickering, no, this accidentally took a sharp turn that throws him off a cliff into very dangerous territory, a swamp he swore to never dive in again with Im Changkyun. “I mean,” the brown haired scholar gulps, licking his sun-cracked lips. Changkyun’s eyes follow the movement but he has definitely retreated otherwise behind a hard-practiced pokerface. “I mean… My guard dog.” The punchline is delivered in such a poor manner that it only further deteriorates whatever bridge he’s been trying to rebuild for the past days, forcing him to catapult himself into the cold waters of the Nile with no one to shout _man_ _overboard_ for him, no one to throw him a life jacket to the rescue. 

Changkyun watches Kihyun with this incredulous look that twists the pharaoh’s stomach in million of knots, but eventually, he scoffs and breaks away from the embarrassing eyelock. “What are the chances of finding a tunnel to hell? I think I’d rather sleep on the doormat with Anubis.” He absolutely cannot stand the wide smile, full of relief that takes over Kihyun’s face, so bright and sunny it hurts his vision and he rightfully turns away to avoid it. Definitely not to hide his own grin behind the palm of his hand. “Not sure, maybe you can dig one?” At the insinuation, Changkyun gets up scandalized and pretends to walk away from the king but Kihyun is quick to grab his wrist and stop him from getting too far, laughing all the while and beaming so much his eyes almost disappear in familiar crescent shapes. “That’s it I’ve had enough, hell sounds better.”

“Nooo,” Kihyun whines, pulling the other closer by his wrist, unable to stop himself from smiling until his cheeks hurt. Such a weird sensation that Kihyun is all but too willing to blame on the stress Bastet's words have dropped on his shoulders, but he also remembers this giddiness from the past. From when Changkyun would do impersonations of their teachers, a perfect mock of their posh accents cracking Kihyun up for hours until Hyunwoo would come and invite him for luncheon. Maybe it's the wistfulness of youth, or maybe it's just how some people make you happy simply by being there. Maybe it's a bit of both and a lot of Changkyun. "We made a pact remember? We have to work together, it's too late to ditch me now."

"Work together to what?" Changkyun retorts, rejecting Kihyun’s touch and crossing his arms over his chest. Huh, his wrist is still burning although the temperature dropped. Just how much of Horus' powers sipped into Kihyun? Changkyun shifts his weight from one leg to the other uncomfortably, but doesn't stir away from the pharaoh, their knees almost touching. The perfect position to make Kihyun flustered, sweet revenge for daring to compare him with a dog. "For starters, survive," Kihyun says, jokes aside. He is forced to look up now to meet the other’s tense gaze and in spite of his stiff shoulders, he is able to tell this is the most relaxed Changkyun allowed himself to be ever since they met in King Chae's tomb, maybe even longer. The fact that it is in Kihyun’s presence makes it hard for the scholar to not just assume he’s the cause, but either way, it’s certain progress for their relationship.

No matter how much Kihyun argues his height is perfectly average, that doesn’t change the years he’s been severely teased and even mocked for not being as tall as the other guys his age, which, obviously, left him with some sort of complex that pushes him to do everything to make himself appear taller. But having Changkyun stare down at him like this doesn’t kindle the same turmoil in his mind, likely for the beforehand knowledge of Changkyun being pretty much the same height. The position has some great advantages as well, for instance giving him the perfect angle to admire the constellations of moles on Changkyun’s fair skin. Some which he knew, like the pretty evident one in the middle of his neck, a target for eyes to rest on and quite distracting whenever Changkyun tilts his head. Some new like the ones trailing down his chest to his abdomen and leading way low. There’s a scar there that he noticed in the morning as well, probably coming from a stab that barely missed Changkyun’s liver, and definitely more superficial than the deep cut right below his collarbone. Just in how many fights did Changkyun get involved in these past years?

He tries to take a peek at the other’s wounded arm, but the leopard fur keeps it safely protected from stranger’s eyes. “Thanks again, for saving me from that leopard,” Kihyun whispers softly, fingers tingling to reach out and touch the soft spotted pelt. It looks incredibly fluffy, ideal for snuggling up on cold nights. He quickly dismisses the thought before it gets the chance to make him blush. “It’s nothing,” Changkyun shrugs as though tackling a wild cat was no big deal, as though it’s something normal he does on the daily. “You saved me from the falcon, told you we’re even,” he insists, arms still crossed. Kihyun’s eyebrows furrow, ironically making him resemble exactly the same falcon he destroyed not too long ago. Changkyun can’t mean that, he can’t just say saving his life was nothing. “I couldn't have let you die in the tomb. You, on the other hand, could have easily let me become shish kebab for cats.” 

“Please,” Changkyun rolls his eyes, voice so tantalizing Kihyun almost sees it coming. Almost. “I did the leopard a favor. He'd have choked on your bony ass.” Kihyun is the one choking on absolutely nothing instead, face so very red it would put Horus’ solar disk to shame. The younger has always been pretty bold in such controversial statements and at times it had been funny to watch others get flustered by Changkyun’s lack of brain to mouth filter  – or rather, by his no fucks given attitude. Being on the receiving end of that spoiled mouth though affects him in such incomprehensible ways and turns his brain to mush, as though his rival took a hook and proceeded to make a smoothie out of his veritable intellect. “My arse –” he stutters, quite hopelessly. It’s a little bit tragic honestly, how he can hear his heartbeat picking up its hectic rhythm. It would come as no surprise if Changkyun could hear it too. 

“Seriously, you still get so flustered from this. You’re ridiculous.” The tomb raider is nothing if not cruel and crude laughing so unabashedly in Kihyun’s face, taking utter joy from how mortified the pharaoh looked. Kihyun is very much aware of how his round boiling cheeks making him look like a mellow cherry, and it is all Im Changkyun’s fault, as usual. Damn his and his wolfish charms. “ _ You _ are ridiculous!” he counters, quite childishly indeed, but he has no other comeback, not when he wishes his clenched fists could wipe off that cocky smirk off those perfect lips or punch that sharp nose. “And for your information, that leopard would have enjoyed my bony ass.” Finally, Kihyun discovered a bigger mystery than what all these Egyptian deities want from a poor scholar like him, namely, when will he ever learn to shut his mouth in such situations and not become the laughing stock of Thebes. “Oh no,” he groans, head dropped to bury in his palms, the red and white crown sliding off his head slightly. “Oh, gods, that came out  _ so _ wrong.”

If this is how he dies, a deplorable death caused by mass-hysteria on Changkyun’s side, well, at least the last thing Kihyun would hear is that precious laughter. And that must count for something, something he could offer to Anubis to put on the scales against the feather of Ma’at as one of his life-long achievements. “Keep telling yourself that, hun.” Changkyun shakes his head, over and above entertained by all of Kihyun’s reactions but eventually, he calms down, putting the king out of his misery. There will be more chances to take a piss at the preppy egyptologist. For now, he’ll hold back that remark about how Kihyun’s kilt is, gods forbid, not ironed, less he completely breaks his dams down.

“This...This feels nostalgic,” Kihyun huffs a breath, throwing a shy glance at Changkyun’s smiling face, and then distracting himself with their surroundings. There are two ducklings following their mama duck’s tail on the small pond, learning how to dive in the water and look for tiny fish, their quacking pretty adorable but Kihyun fears Bastet might sneak up on them in her cat form and knock herself out with an all you can eat buffet. The weather is still so pleasant despite winter approaching carried by wind on fast wings, and the eclipse is as gorgeous as it is blood curling. There’s so much beauty in chaos that he never gets to appreciate enough, emboldened by the irrational urge to tidy things up immediately and bring order to the world. Maybe there is some meaning to this entire Horus Khyun nonsense. With the two of them on a bench under the shade of a tree, Kihyun feels like he’s reading a page ripped out of another story. 

So arduous, and yet so beautiful. 

If only they could always be like this. Young, carefree, alive.

All that will change very soon, the eclipse will make sure of it. “Yeah,” Changkyun hums, eyes trained once more on the pigeon nest. Curious thing, Kihyun never took Changkyun for the type to be into birdwatching. “You know what’s missing?” The question is timid and Kihyun feels silly for even asking that because there’s no way his old friend would even remember what he’s got in mind, and if he does Changkyun would be too prideful to admit to it. After all this time, Kihyun feels like he knows nothing about the other man and yet whenever his life took a sudden spin, a tornado wiping off any chance of peace and security he’s ever desired to achieve, Changkyun was always right there by his side. Years alone made him think that Changkyun was the one riding the tornado prepared to ruin his life, but now...

“Two cups,” the black haired says, holding up two digits in the air and counting. “A double espresso,” his index pulls back the first digit, “and a cafe latte with no cream, no sugar, just a sprinkle of cinnamon and some cocoa flecks, if you’re having a shitty day.” Kihyun stares. And then he stares some more. “You remember my order,” the words are barely gasped, trembled, and his gaze is perplexed as Changkyun points a finger gun at his heart and pretends to pull the trigger. Kihyun tries, he  _ really  _ tries not to wonder whether given the situation again, Changkyun would shoot him dead. Cinnamon and some cocoa flecks on top, if he’s having a shitty day. “I bought you that crap for two whole years and you never paid me back. Now that you're filthy rich you should give me what you owe me.” 

“The office,” Kihyun says without hesitation, the third mistake that evening and perhaps the gravest of them all when he simply sees how the color drains from Changkyun’s face altogether. What confronts him is not anger nor disparagement, it’s far worse than anything he could have imagined. It’s the same heartbreak he remembers from the day the president of the association named him the new director in charge, when Changkyun was right next to him, gaping, trying to hold together the sharp shards and not cut himself too much in them. “That's…” he gulps, feet walking away without his consent, putting as much distance as possible between him and Kihyun without falling into the cold pond. “That’s not what I meant.” Cold, calculated, utterly detached. The mask is back in place after Kihyun barely managed to have it slip off for a brief moment, after he got only one glimpse of his old true friend. Now, he is no longer facing Im Changkyun, the soft boy he used to care for so deeply, because this man couldn’t be more different from him. An unpassionate mercenary who robs tombs to sell artifacts on the black market. The epitome of scum. 

“I know, but it’s what I owe you,” Kihyun says determinedly. He might not be the bravest man out here, but he is a man of honor who admits when he’s wronged someone. And that much he can offer Changkyun, “Even after all you did.” Apparently, Kihyun discarded his oratory and interpersonal skills in the council chamber at that alabaster table, considering he only manages to say all the wrong things ever since he’s been reunited with Changkyun, the exact things that bring to the surface a passive hatred that left unattended could become lethal. “You fucking went behind my back!” The younger shouts, his yell so boisterous neither of them notices the commotion inside the palace’s walls. “Don’t try to paint yourself the victim here when you’re a traitor.” The implicit or else makes the threat all the more frightening yet Kihyun is able to stand his ground, something he should have done a decade ago.

“I’m not!” he insists, putting aside the heavy crown, burdening him with two kingdoms on his shoulders. He did not ask to be pharaoh any more than he asked the Supreme Council to appoint him director, but Changkyun never gave him the chance to explain that like those titles strapped him off any rights. Like their past had been completely erased within seconds, cursed and disposed of in some limbo of time. “Just listen to me,” Kihyun asks calmly, reaching to hold the other’s wrist but Changkyun slaps his hand away before their skin can touch at all. “I said that this wound is closed,” the one dressed like a priest of Anubis juts his chin up, prepared to end it once and for all. “Doesn't give you the right to stab me in another.”

“Changkyun, I –”

Whatever plea Kihyun wanted to bid as a peace offering gets swallowed by the raucousness, the screams of his servants deafening to their ears and an earthquake splitting the ground between him and Changkyun. “Father!!” Juhani arises out of nowhere, dashing from corridor to corridor until finally dropping at the pharaoh’s feet, blood running down his cheek from a scratch so deep Kihyun thinks he can see the bone. “Father, come quickly you're the only one,” the general begs and although they’ve both seen the second prince in a vulnerable state when they’ve first been introduced, it is easy to tell this is not sensitivity. It’s pure, unadulterated terror. “What happened?” Kihyun asks as the screams get louder. Whatever is out there wreaking havoc among his people is fast approaching the secluded courtyard.

“She’s here,” Juhani cries and a vile roar cuts through the air like a knife. Changkyun has heard that sound before in a safari, right before a lion jumped on the hood of his car. “I don’t know how, but she’s here and she’s after you and won't stop the massacre until she finds you,” the youngest rambles clutching his  _ Khopesh _ to his chest, the sickle sword rusty and nicked as if whatever Juhani wanted to slash cut through the actual blade. What kind of monster did Apophis send their way? Kihyun straightens his back and pulls out his trusty golden dagger as he prays they’re under siege by some demon and not another deity. Juhani,  obviously frightened by the woman hunting down his father, jumps back to his feet, delivering one last warning. “Taekhotep and the medjay tried to hold her back but only a god can fight another god.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

The terrible smell hits him before he sees her mane or her macabre hands dipped in the blood of her enemies. The sound of the lioness dragging her gory ax across the pavement of sandstone scratches his eardrums before her growling strikes fear in his poor soul.“You dare go at war with no prayer to me and no offerings?” If you ignore the mad look lusting after bloodshed or her otherwise stained appearance, the goddess is just as beautiful as her sweeter sister Bastet, her round breasts held up by two cups of gold and a pool of red silk flowing down her strong legs. Bracelets adorn her arms, protecting her from enemies and giving her the strength to ride high on the hills of glory as she butchers everyone who stands in her way on the battlefield. Kihyun fears that one might be him. “You infidel you are no king of Egypt!” the goddess growls, the vibrations rattling the jewelry wrapped around her neck. “You claim to be a god among gods, mortal. I shall feast on your entrails!”

The threats, the carnage, the delirium and the lioness head. Kihyun says a little prayer to Horus as he braces to clash with Sekhmet, the goddess of war. 

 

 

#  **𓂀𓂀𓂀**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert oh shit here we go again meme here*

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for being here!  
> you can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/seoulfulnights), my dms are always open.


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